


This Lonely World

by KiwiCutie013



Series: RvB Apocalypse AU [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Churboose implied, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Freckles is a dog, Horror, Humor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loneliness, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Wash is a lonely boi, Zombie Apocalypse, teen Junior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiCutie013/pseuds/KiwiCutie013
Summary: What do you get when you wander across the only living, human beings you've seen since the zombie apocalypse started?Screwed over, robbed, and abandonedand maybe, eventually, a family.The main story surrounding my RVB apocalypse AU series <3The story is already completed and will be updated consistently.
Relationships: Felix | Isaac Gates/Lavernius Tucker (Past), Junior & Agent Washington (Red vs Blue), Junior & Lavernius Tucker, Lavernius Tucker/Agent Washington, Leonard L. Church & Lavernius Tucker, Leonard L. Church/Agent Texas | AI Program Beta, Michael J. Caboose/Leonard L. Church, Michael J. Caboose/Leonard L. Church/Agent Texas | Allison
Series: RvB Apocalypse AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717165
Comments: 20
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the main story surrounding my RVB apocalypse universe. There are other works following the rest of the Reds and Blues in the same universe that will be posted soon. For updates and other content, follow me on Instagram @Tuckers_bitcc 
> 
> Enjoy <3

For as long as David Washington could remember; he had been alone. Even before the Apocalypse it was this way. 

No family. No girlfriend. 

He had a cat, but he didn’t get out much so not many friends. And the friends he did have were no longer with him. Or anyone for that matter. 

Maybe they had a special spot in heaven for them. 

Well, knowing them it was more like hell. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he had always been alone. So, when the Zombie Apocalypse rolled around, there was no one to help him. He was on his own. On the bright side, he didn’t have to be weighed down by anyone. No people to feel sorry or pity for. No people to slow him down. 

1,401,120 minutes alone. 

23,352 hours alone.

973 days alone

2 years and 8 months alone.

He had been wandering around the Zombiefied states of America for over 4 years. He hadn’t seen a single living soul in 2 years and 8 months. 

He remembered the last person he came across like it was yesterday. It was a girl. With beautiful bright red hair. She said her name was Carolina. She was looking for her dad. David had guessed she wasn’t planning on having a happy reunion with him, because she seemed pissed whenever she talked about him. He remembered sitting on top of the Golden Gate bridge with her, sharing a beer. They talked and laughed. She told him she was a survivor. He felt comfortable with her. It just felt so good to be by another living breathing thing.

He let his guard down. 

The worst mistake he ever made. 

She left him for dead. Took his guns, food, and truck. He watched in pain as she drove away.

“It’s nothing personal.” She told him.

“Just the way life is now.”

He found her two weeks later.

A bloody gurgling mess, trapped under a large concrete slab. Clawing at the slab and growling. Hungry and undead. He should have shown her mercy. He regretted not doing so now.

So much for being a survivor. 

That was ok. Maybe David Washington was meant to be alone. He made it this far like that anyway. Maybe it was what kept him alive these four years. Because it sure as hell wasn’t will or determination. David had given up on that years ago. He was just wandering around the Apocalypse without a goal or destination in mind. 

A wise woman once said. “The key to living a long life was wanting to die.”

Maybe life just wanted to see how many times it could screw him over before he decided to off himself.

But, that couldn't be right. Because a survivor always had a major heartfelt story on how he survived so long. 

Some people survived because they were heartless. They would kill in a heartbeat. No questions asked.  Some people survived because they were valuable. Bad with a gun, but good with computers or knowledge. Some people lived off of determination. Maybe they had a family to save or were looking for a loved one. Maybe they were looking for a zombie free island, that they secretly knew didn’t exist. Point being, everyone survived because they had a mission or something they were good at. 

But, David didn’t.

He’d never been really good at anything. Always mediocre. There was always someone better at the things he liked than him. Always someone who was above him. He was never enough. Maybe that was why he never had any real goal in the Apocalypse. He wandered around like a zombie. Irony much? 

Some days he felt like he wasn’t there. Like he was somewhere else. He just walked and walked or drove. Staying nights at abandoned hotels or on the side of the road. He made his way around the country aimlessly. Not looking for anything. Just walking.

And that’s how he wound up here, along the side of a road somewhere in Minnesota. No car. Nothing but him, his bag, and his AK47. It was pretty creepy. The road was scattered with cars and trash. Small fires burned and the sun shone down on the concrete. It was quiet. The only thing interrupting the silence was the sound of broken glass crunching under his shoes as he walked. Also the occasional zombie that dove in his direction. 

It was warm, and by the placing of the sun it was about 1:30 ish. Thank god for the little knowledge he had from serving a few years as a national guard. He was still a private before the apocalypse. Hell, he just got out of training. 

Most people would guess that he of all people would be prepared. The military was supposed to be that way right? Wrong. He was scared out of his fucking mind. He spent the first month camping out with a few buddies. Eventually, they each bit the dust and he was the only one left. Alone and without a purpose. Since then he had been wandering. 

Nothing but him and his thoughts. 

Maybe he should stop thinking. Because he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the road in front of him and a Z came out from one of the cars and bolted directly at him. Washington didn't jump or hesitate from the lack of preparation, only whipped out his gun and attempted to hit the creature over the head with it. Anything to get it to back up as it grabbed at him and pushed him back violently trying to get a bite of his flesh. 

Rotten teeth crashing against each other as blood slid down the creature’s lips. It pinned him against a rusty car and Washington held onto his gun trying to push the zombie away with it. He kicked the zombie back and lifted his gun firing once and then twice. 

Headshot.

It fell limp and David sighed leaning back against the car. 

He really needed to get off this highway. Find someplace to hole up. He looked around the road and saw an exit that looked pretty clear of cars and debris. He supposed he could head that way. 

Because why the hell not?

Not like he had anywhere to be. 

David walked down the road until he made it to what looked to be a small town. He could see hotels, bars, stores, and a gas station. 

It wouldn’t hurt to have a car. Maybe he would find something useful at the gas station. Washington shrugged as he made it to the abandoned station and began checking the few cars that were scattered. None of them had gas and most of them looked to be in pretty bad condition. The gas station didn’t look much nicer. There was trash everywhere and the windows were shattered. The occasional graffiti also decorated the building. Washington specifically noticed the sloppy words on the side of the front wall in red paint.

_ ‘No Rest For The Wicked’ _

Damn right.

David walked into the building with his gun up. The bell jingled as he entered and when no zombies immediately started charging at him, David took a look around the place. The cashier was dead at the checkout. Kneeled over with a gunshot wound in the back of its head. Washington walked over to it tapping it with the end of his gun. 

You could never be too careful. 

When he was sure it was dead, he used the end of his gun to flip it over in the seat and took a glance at his name tag. 

“Sorry Bitters.” Washington mumbled after seeing the name written in sloppy sharpie across the piece of plastic. 

The poor sick fuck was still in uniform. It looked like he died day one. David looked around the table. Nothing really of value. No cigarettes behind the stand or anything. He didn’t smoke but they were good for the occasional trade. That was if he ever saw another living person again. He continued his search walking along the isles, picking out a few protein bars and shoving them in the back pocket of his backpack. There didn’t seem to be any chocolate or anything. People probably grabbed all the junk within the first year of the Apocalypse. 

Oh, how he would kill for a Butterfinger right about now. 

David made his way to the back of the store hoping to score some water. You could never have enough and his few bottles would only last him a week or so, maybe less. He held his gun to his side as he looked through the freezer section. None of the drinks were cold. That was expected since there was no power, but David still missed the feeling of opening a freezer and feeling the cool breeze. The feeling of reaching in and having the contents actually be cold. There were a lot of things he missed. The smell of something just cooked being pulled out of the oven, the sound of music playing in stores, and the humans. As lonely as he was Pre Z, he did miss the smiles people would occasionally give him. He missed the laughter. He missed the touch of the living. Not even sex, just a hug or a pat on the back would suffice.

Washington was lost in his thoughts when an all too familiar sound brought him back into reality.

The sound of a gun cocking. 

“Don’t fucking move.”

The not having to defend your life every 5 minutes was a big thing he liked about Pre Z.

The sound of a male voice made him almost want to smile. You know, besides the fact that he was being threatened. He just hadn’t heard anything but snarling and his own voice in over 2 years. David froze before slowly letting go of the handle to the freezer. 

He heard the voice sigh behind him. "Dude, that counts as moving. I said don't move."

David almost rolled his eyes. 

"Good, now Hands up! Drop the gun and turn around slowly." The voice sputtered, almost sounding unsure of what to do. "No funny stuff or I pull the trigger." THe person added before snickering quietly behind him. "Bow Chicka Bow Wow.” 

Why did the one person he did come across have to be an asshole?

Washington dropped his gun and put his hands up. He slowly turned around and met the eyes of a much shorter black male. The man had his hair in dreads pulled back into a ponytail and had strange looking teal tattoos trailing up the side of his face. He wore a pair of distressed dark blue jeans and a grey shirt with a black leather jacket over it. He could take on this guy, if needed. 

“Good, now hand over the bag.” The male instructed

Washington nodded and slowly took off his bag. He grabbed the strap and held it out for the stranger. The guy eyed him before taking one hand off his shotgun and reaching to take the bag from David. The second the stranger’s hand grasped his backpack Washington used his other hand to grip the man’s arm and tug him forward. The guy let out a yelp as Washington pulled his gun out of the stranger’s hand and wrapped his arm around the his neck. David used his free hand to point the guy’s shotgun to the back of his head.

“I would suggest dropping my bag.” 

The shorter man dropped the bag with a thud. “Damn dude. Relax, I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He said, hands up in defense.

“You weren’t huh?” David said releasing and pushing the stranger down before kneeling down and picking up his AK47 and his bag. He slung his bag and the strap of the AK47 over his shoulder and kept the muzzle of the shotgun pointed at the man. 

“No I wasn’t." The stranger defended. "I'm a family man. A family man wouldn't do that." 

Washington raised a brow. "Family man? No such thing anymore." 

"Uh-huh. I got a son" The stranger averted his gaze and shrugged.

“Your son?”

“Yes..." The stranger averted his gaze and shrugged. "He’s sick. Sorry for attacking you, I just can’t help him without the proper medical stuff and I haven't really seen anybody in a while.” He rambled.

“Well I don’t have anything to help you.” David said. "If anything." He stated. "It's you who should be doing the offering." 

"I don't got nothing." The stranger quipped. 

Washington glared and raised his brow.

It was quiet like that for a minute while the man kind of stared, seeming uncomfortable before speaking again. "You uh," He paused. "I don't know, what do you want?"

David shrugged. "Transportation would be nice."

“I have a car." The stranger suggested. “The only problem is I don’t have any gas. How about I’ll help you get some gas, you let me go, and it’s yours."

“You tried to rob me.” Washington stated. "I can;t trust you." 

“Yea, but that wasn't my fault and we can just have a clean slate.”

David sighed. First of all it was his fault and second of all, things didn't just worl like that. He shouldn’t help. He tried to fucking rob him and if David didn’t stop him, he would probably have killed him. If the roles were reversed this man would definitely leave Washington for dead. But If this man was telling the truth, Wash couldn't kill him. 

He may have lost a lot of his humanity over the years, but he wouldn't leave a kid without a father

And besides, this was the first person he had seen in years. 

“Get up.” David told him. 

The man scrambled to get up and stood with his hands in the air.

“I will help you. But you can't have your gun back and you have to lead the way. If you’re lying to me I will not hesitate to kill you.”

The man grinned and put his hands down cautiously. “Thanks, I guess.”

David nodded and gestured to the door with the gun. 

The stranger smiled and walked past him, exiting out of the gas station as David followed with the shotgun still raised. 

“It’s this way. We have a safe space in an old home with a treehouse. It’s only temporary” The stranger. 

This guy was pretty peppy for being threatened with his own gun. 

“I’m Tucker by the way.” The stranger introduced as he led David down the road. 

“David Washington.” 

“David? That’s kind of lame." Tucker degraded. "Mind if I just call you Wash?”

“I guess not.” David said, but he winced on the inside. He hadn’t been called Wash since his time in the military and hearing that name brought back memories of his friends; York and North. Sure they were party going assholes that got him in trouble, but they were his party going assholes.

“Sweet.” Tucker said.

David rolled his eyes. Holy shit this guy was upbeat. Or maybe people were supposed to be like that and he was just isolated too long. 

Tucker and Washington continued walking for a few minutes before David put the gun down slightly and walked closer to Tucker.

“How old is your son?” David asked. 

Tucker glanced over at Washington. “14.” He said with a smile. 

They didn’t talk much after that, which Washington found somewhat disappointing. Sure David didn’t like nor trust this person. But hey! It’s a fucking person. A living, breathing, person. He missed the sound of another human’s voice. 

“It’s right up here.” Tucker commented, turning into a neighborhood. Washington followed as Tucker got to a house and moved a few planks of wooden fence aside to get into a backyard. The backyard was a mess, dead grass and off to the side, a pile of bodies wrapped neatly in bags. There was a swing set and as Tucker had promised, an old wooden treehouse. It could’ve been a nice place in the past, but now it was disgusting. Dead and rotten like everything else in the world. Tucker stopped at the bottom of the tree. He looked to Washington and gestured towards the ladder.

“Age before beauty?” Tucker asked with a grin. 

David lifted his gun and Tucker frowned. “I’m not going up there it could be a trap. Call your son down here.” 

“He’s fucking sleeping dude.”

Washington pointed the shotgun at Tucker.

“Alright, alright. Paranoid tight ass.” Tucker grumbled.

“Junior?” He called. Washington kept the gun raised at Tucker when no voice called back. 

“Junior!?” Tucker called again, more adgitation in his voice. Washington was about to cock his gun when a rock suddenly flew out of the treehouse door and hit the man next to him.

Tucker smiled “Ow, you little asshole.” With that comment David could hear faint laughter coming from inside the treehouse. 

“Hey Junior we have a  _ visitor  _ so if you could come down here, that’d be great.” Tucker said. “A helpful  _ visitor _ so unarmed please.” He added quickly.

Washington noted the word visitor was said sharper than the rest of his words, but David didn’t think much of it. After Tucker spoke, shuffling could be heard in the treehouse along with a faint couch. A few seconds later, two backpacks and a steel bat were thrown out of the treehouse, landing on the grass along with a teen who poked his head out of the treehouse and climbed down. The ladder didn’t trail the whole way down the tree so the kid had to hop off the last wooden plank. 

The teen Tucker referred to as Junior smiled weakly at his father and started coughing into his arm. He looked a lot like Tucker and wore a white undershirt with a pair of camouflage army pants that had a shitload of pockets. Tucker was quick to change his expression to concern and glanced at Washington.

“Go ahead.”

Tucker smiled and went over to his kid pulling him into a hug. “Hey little man. You feeling any better?” 

Junior smiled and hugged his father back. “I’m not little and I feel like shit.” The kid said.

“Language, little man.” Tucker said with a smile. 

Junior rolled his eyes and pulled away from the hug.

“Glad to orchestrate a reunion but you said something about a car?” Washington interrupted. 

Junior looked over to David with an expression of disgust. “Who's this?”

“That’s Wash. He’s pretty badass.” Tucker said with a smile. “I'm gonna help him get gas, so he can take our car.” Tucker added sheepishly. 

“Our car!? We need that.” Junior glared at his father. “What did you do?” 

“He tried to rob me.” David said. “Now enough with the bickering.”

Junior went quiet and Tucker nodded. “Yea, the car is right this way.” 

Tucker picked up his and Junior’s bag and glanced towards Washington before picking up the bat. David hesitated before telling Tucker it was ok. He had to defend himself somehow if something happened right? He still didn’t trust Tucker but he hadn’t lied to him so far. The kid and treehouse did exist along with the fact that the kid seemed to be sick. 

Tucker picked up the bat and handed it to Junior before handing Junior’s backpack to him as well. Junior put the backpack over his shoulder.

Tucker then led David to the front of the house with Junior following and knelt down in front of the garage. Tucker grabbed the handle and pulled up the large door to reveal a black Escalade Cadillac. 

“There she is.” Tucker said proudly. 

Washington nodded. “All we need now is some fuel.” 

So the car did exist, and it sure as hell lived past expectations. He was expecting a run down old car, but this was really something. A beauty indeed. Now where were they supposed to find fuel? He supposed they could search the neighborhood cars for fuel. There was no telling whether or not they would find anything, but it was worth a shot.

“You got a map or something?” David asked.

Tucker shook his head “No, but I know the neighborhood pretty well, I grew up here.” 

Washington nodded and looked up at the sky. Based on the position the sun was in, it looked to be about 3:00. If they wanted to find any gas before sundown they would need to start searching soon. David didn’t want to risk having to spend the night with someone who tried robbing him at gunpoint. 

“Ok well, it’s getting late so we should start searching now.”

“Yea. Good point.” Tucker looked around and then turned to Junior. He put his hand on Junior’s forehead, checking his temperature. Tucker then took his hand off and glanced over to Wash. “Is it ok if he lays down inside while we search?”

Washington nodded. “Yea, whatever you gotta do.”

Tucker smiled and turned back to Junior. “Head inside man. Get some rest in my room and if you hear anything there's a gun in my bedside table.” 

Junior nodded and handed his dad the steel bat before eyeing Wash and going inside. Tucker took the bat and practiced swinging it once Junior was out of eye-sight. 

“You done?” Washington asked slightly amused. 

Tucker looked over his shoulder at Wash. “Hell yea, baby. What’s the plan?” He said with a wink.

“OK first of all, don’t ever call me that again. Secondly, we’re going to search the other house’s cars for gas. Hopefully we should find something. But we’ll need something to carry the gas in. Like a canister of some sort. Got anything like that?”

Tucker looked into the garage. “I think so.” He walked in and shuffled through a few boxes before pulling out a red rectangular container. He walked back to Wash and handed it to him. “It’s empty, but I think it’ll work.”

David took the container from him and examined it. “Yea. that’s fine.” He said before putting it at his side. 

Tucker nodded and rested the steel bat over his shoulder. “Where you wanna start?”

David looked around. The neighborhood looked like a ghost town and they were only in the driveway. But at least no zombies have charged at them yet. In fact there weren't many cars parked at the houses. So, most of the people that had lived here must have evacuated pretty early on. Which meant there shouldn’t be too many Zs. Washington looked on the opposite side of the street where there seemed to be a car or so scattered down the road. 

“Let’s start over there.” Washington pointed out, walking past Tucker and crossing the street, heading to a car on the other side of the road. Tucker slung his bag over his shoulder and followed Wash. 

Washington made it to the first house, taking a look at the silver Chevy. The windows were smashed in and the side of the car was rusted near the tires. It definitely wasn’t drivable, but if they were lucky, there could be gas. Washington walked on the side of the car and opened the gas tank. He dug around in his backpack as Tucker unlocked the car and started looking through it. David pulled out a clear tube and pump and held up the carton. He took one of the tubes and inserted it into the fuel tank and put the other one in the nozzle of the red carton. He took the handle of the siphon and pumped it. 

Tucker slid out of the passenger seat and looked over at Washington. “Whatcha’ doing?”   
  


“I’m siphoning the car.” 

Tucker nodded and continued looking around inside the car. David sighed. They were not lucky. Well, he wasn’t expecting to find anything in the first car. It would just make all of this a whole lot easier. “It’s dry.” He called to Tucker. “Let’s move on.” 

David zipped up his backpack and held onto the carton and pump. He slung the bag over his shoulder along with the AK47 and moved on to the next car down the street as Tucker followed. 

“What did you do pre Z?” Tucker asked, checking the trunk of the next car as Washington attempted to find gas.

“What?”   
  


“Like, for a job. What did you do before the apocalypse?”

“I- I worked as a National Guard.”

It felt easy to say, but David could hear the voices of his friends. Their laughter and their screams were still fresh in his mind. Even after all these years, Washington could remember every detail about them. Stuck in the fate that was David’s reality. Walking and lurking somewhere. Much to David’s demise he hadn’t gotten the chance to spare them from turning. He only hoped that he would never have to come across them as Zs. He hoped someone showed them mercy. 

“Military? Then why are you here instead of at some secluded zombie-free military base?”

David frowned. “It didn’t happen like that. No one was spared from the apocalypse.” He said coldly. Washington then packed up his stuff and pushed past Tucker heading to the next car. 

Tucker followed closely behind him. “Sorry man, didn’t mean it like that.”

Washington didn’t reply. He instead kneeled down in front of the next car and began setting up to pump it as Tucker leaned against the vehicle, no longer caring enough to search it. 

Tucker was silent and didn’t say another word. David looked up at Tucker and sighed. “What did you do?” He asked him packing up his stuff as this car was also dry. He didn’t mean to be harsh and he liked the sound o f Tucker’s v oice.

Awkward conversation was better than silence.

Tucker half smiled and followed Washington to the next car. “I was a...an Entrepreneur. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, I did my own thing.”

“You can admit it if you were a hooker.” He joked 

Tucker smiled slyly. “Wash, if you wanted to know if I was a smash and dash kind of guy, you could’ve just asked.” 

“You took that the wrong way.” He said slightly amused and slightly flushed. 

Washington made his way to the next car as Tucker followed. He dropped his bag by the tank and kneeled down to start pumping. He was unwrapping the pump when a Z became uncomfortably visible banging against the window inside the car. David jumped and grabbed his gun. He wasn’t expecting that. He sighed, realizing the zombie couldn’t get out of the vehicle. He aimed his gun ready to fire and Tucker stepped in front of him. 

David rolled his eyes. “Tucker, move.” He said lowering his gun slightly. 

Tucker shook his head. “No way man, if you shoot you’ll attract more.”

Well...he was actually right. He would attract more, but it was nothing David couldn’t handle. Tucker’s neighborhood seemed very abandoned. It didn’t look like anyone even lived in it before the apocalypse. He surely wouldn’t welcome too many guests. Still, Wash placed his gun on the ground and let the Z be. He began to finish unraveling the pump when Tucker spoke again.

“Hey, we’re not just gonna leave it either.” He stated. 

Wash sighed, getting his knife out. This guy sure was a baby about the Zs. They weren’t people. Although Wash liked giving the ones he knew or thought needed to be let go mercy, he didn’t kill every single one. Wash stood up to make an approach on the door when Tucker stopped him. 

“Nuh-uh. We’re doing this the fun way, tightass.”

There was a fun way?

“Top or bottom?” Tucker asked slyly.

Washington flushed a little at the words. “Excuse me?” What was with this guy and the sexual innuendos? 

Tucker sighed “Nevermind, I’ll take top.” He then dropped his bag and swung his bat over his shoulder. Tucker walked over to the car’s hood and climbed on top of the vehicle. He stood on the roof of the car and walked over to where David was. He faced Wash and lifted up his bat bending his knees a little. The Z kept its attention on Wash. It snarled and scratched against the window, not seeming to notice Tucker on top of the car. 

David looked at Tucker. He thought he knew where he was going with this. 

“Open it.” Tucker instructed with his bat at the ready.

David kicked his bag out of the way to create room for him to move. He grabbed the handle of the car door and opened it, quickly moving backwards. The Z screeched and moved to get out of the car. The second it stepped out of the vehicle Tucker swung his bat and wacked it upside the head. The zombie dropped with a thud, twitching for a second before Tucker slid off the hood of the car and brought up the bat, smashing it in the head a second time for good measure. 

“Bo-yah motherfucker!” Tucker cheered triumphantly swinging the bat over his shoulder. “Now that’s how we fucking do it! Take that zombie trash!” Tucker said with a happy grin.

David tried his best not to smile. 

Why was it so hard?

He hadn’t seen a living, breathing person in years. Now that he was with one, he wanted desperately to hear them. To see them. It sounded creepier than he meant, but it was true. Every time Tucker smiled or laughed, Washington couldn’t help but want to smile along with him. Would everybody have this effect on him or just Tucker? He couldn’t remember if this happened to him before the apocalypse. 

Washington stepped over the body and began setting up the tank to pump it. It only took a pump or two before he realized. Holy shit this car has gas. 

David continued pumping the car until it was dry. There wasn’t much gas but it was a start. David took the pump out and got Tucker’s attention by shaking the container. Tucker heard the sound of liquid sloshing around in the red canteen and smiled. “Gas?”   
  


“Yup. Granted it would only take the car a few miles, but it’s a start.”

Tucker smiled. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Let’s keep looking so we can get your ass to…”

David thought for a moment. That’s right. Tucker was giving him the car. Which meant as soon as they filled up the tank, David would be leaving. He would be alone again. David pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He wanted to be alone. He didn’t want the pain of trusting someone only to have them let him down. 

Washington looked up at Tucker. “No real destination.” He mumbled, packing up the pump and heading to the next car. 

When they finally filled up the whole tank it was about 9:00 at night. Tucker looked at the car for a moment before digging in his pocket and pulling out the car’s keys. He flipped them over and took a final look at them before handing them to Washington. “I guess this is goodbye now.” He said with a half smile that made him seem somewhat sad to say it. 

Washington took them and slipped them in his pocket before looking away from Tucker and at the car.

Why didn’t he want to leave?

He shouldn’t be hesitating. This was easy. Get in the car and go. He tried to move but his feet wouldn’t allow him. 

“You know, it’s getting pretty late. If you want to, you can spend the night here and leave in the morning.” Tucker offered him, most likely sensing his uncertainty. 

David considered this. 

He almost said no. He wanted to say no. He should say no. But, he found way too many positive outcomes, and he had gotten attached to Tucker.

He wasn’t ready to leave yet.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Tucker smiled “Ok. Um, I got a spare room. But we can also all hang out in the living room.” He said excitedly.

Washington laughed and Tucker led him into the house. At first glance, it seemed like a pretty nice place. There was no electricity or anything, but for a house it seemed pretty clean. Most places he’d slept in, there was mold coating the walls and bodies covering the floors.

“Junior?!” Tucker called once they made it inside. It was quiet for a moment until the teen came out of a room with a gun in his hands, pointed at them. David was actually impressed with the kid’s form. He may have been gripping the pistol with both hands, but there was no hesitation when he raised the gun. His aim seemed exact to. If he wanted to kill them, he would.

It was odd that every time he saw this kid, he expected his dad to have some sort of danger along with him. 

“What is he still doing with you?” Junior asked lowering the gun.

“It’s getting late. He’ll leave tomorrow.”

Junior shrugged and slipped the gun into his back pocket. “Better not try anything.” He mumbled walking over to the living room area.

“Don’t be a brat.” Tucker retorted. It may have been an insult, but Tucker showed no real anger or venom in his voice. 

Junior smiled holding up two middle fingers before falling back onto the couch.

“Don’t mind him, he’s an asshole.” Tucker told Wash. 

“Wonder where he gets it from.”

Tucker laughed. “Low blow man.” HE glanced at Junior and then looked back to Washington. “Are you hungry?”

David looked over at him. “Not really.”

“I am!” Junior called from the couch.

“You know how to feed yourself.” Tucker said sternly. Washington gave Tucker a look at the fact that according to his logic, Washington couldn’t feed himself.

“But I’m sick.” Junior whined.

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Stay there, I’ll be right back.” He said before leaving the room.

Tucker left and David was left alone in a room with a kid who hated him. Washington placed his bag and gun by the door but took out a knife. He placed it in the holder in his boot and walked over to look around the room he was in. Junior sat up on the couch and eyed him. “Before you go wandering around, a few things should be said.” Washington looked over at the kid. 

Was he about to be lectured by a 14-year-old?

“I’m just looking.”

“Yea well, back rooms are off limits, the bathroom is the second door to the left, and you’re not allowed to touch anything.”

David nodded. “Sounds reasonable. What’s in the back rooms?”

“Corpses.”

Wow, that was being blunt. 

“Ok.”

“Don’t get too comfortable either. Your gone tomorrow.” Junior snipped. 

“Understood.”

Just then, Tucker came back into the room. He had a bundle of blankets and what looked to be an MRE in his hands. He placed the MRE package on the coffee table and began draping the blankets over the couch. “So, we’ll probably end up crashing on the couch… you sure you don’t want an MRE or something?” 

Washington shook his head. “I’m fine.”

Tucker grinned. “Damn straight.” He said slyly as he knelt by the coffee table and began unwrapping the MRE. “Does spaghetti meet your standards?” He asked Junior. 

“That’s peasant food.”

Tucker laughed. “Only food we got kid.” He poured water in the packaging and sealed it up before looking at Wash. “Dude. Sit down.”

David looked up at him and nodded sitting down on the couch. 

It was silent for a minute, but David strangely didn’t feel uncomfortable. He glanced around the room he was in as Tucker heated up Junior’s MRE.

“How long have you guys been here?” David asked.

Tucker adjusted the MRE on the table and looked over at Wash. “Since the apocalypse.” He admitted.

“That’s a long time to stay in one place for.”

“I guess, but we haven’t encountered many problems.”

Washington thought for a moment. Staying in one place and being coped up like they had been was not a very ideal situation for the apocalypse. For one; supplies would quickly become scarce and for another; if they didn’t get out much, then they probably haden't seen many of the horrors of the apocalypse; The hoards, the gangs, everything. Experience was knowledge and without it you wouldn’t live long. 

Wash kind of wanted to take them with him. 

It was an odd want, but still one he had. “Do you ever plan on leaving?” He asked. 

Tucker smiled. “Not at first. But, a few days ago, I got a call from an old buddy. He told me him and a few people were holed up in Texas and had a pretty good thing going for them. So, we may head down there.” 

Junior smiled as he leaned forward taking the MRE off the table. “Paradise.” He mumbled with a grin.

Texas wouldn’t be paradise.

Washington knew this. He had passed by the place one or twice. There was practically nothing left of the state. Most of the zombies crowded in warm areas and Texas was a popular one. It was a dead end.

Literally.

He wanted to tell them that they would find nothing there and that they were better off staying where they were or maybe with him. But, he didn’t want to ruin their goal. As he knew, a man without a mission was a dead man. If you had nothing to do in the apocalypse, you would be one of the first people to die. You had to have a purpose to keep going. 

Washington was one of the lucky people to have survived without one.

“Where are you headed?” Junior asked Washington with a spoonful of food in his mouth. 

“Um… I’m not sure.”

Tucker looked over at Junior and glared at him. 

“What? It’s a normal question.” He protested. “If he’s taking our car, I wanna know where he’s taking it.”

Tucker raised a brow. “Hurry up and eat. You should get to bed soon.”

It looked like Junior was about to protest, but he kept his mouth shut.

Tucker looked up at Washington. “You want a beer?” 

David shook his head. “I’m good, thank you.” 

Junior rolled his eyes and stood up taking his trash with him. Tucker immediately stood up and took his son’s spot on the couch. “Junior! Can you set the alarm for tomorrow?” Tucker called to his son.

“What time?”

Tucker looked over at Washington. “What time do you wanna leave?”

“I guess 8ish.”

“8:30!” Tucker shouted over the couch.

A minute later Junior came into the room with a little black box. “You set it, I don’t know how.”

Tucker rolled his eyes and took the box. He pressed a few buttons that David couldn’t see, but he trusted that Tucker would actually set the alarm to 8. The odd thing was that they even had an alarm. 

“What’s it run on?” Washington asked.

“Batteries.” Junior said as he pushed Tucker aside and laid down on the couch.

“Hey. I rightfully stole that spot.” Tucker complained as he set the black box on the table.

Junior chuckled and stuck his tongue out at his father. “Yea, but I’m actually going to sleep now.” The teen said with a cocky grin as he pulled the blanket down that had been draped over the couch.

“Goodnight.” Tucker said scooting back so his son had room. 

“Night.” Came the mumbled response. 

Tucker laid his head against the back of the couch and looked over at Wash who was resting his head against his hand. “You going to bed?” Tucker asked.

“Soon.”

Tucker nodded. “It’s ok if you don’t trust me. I’m not going to kill you while you sleep or nothing.” Tucker joked.

“Huh? Oh nothing like that. Just you know...insomnia.”

“Oh.”

It was silent for a moment when Washington spoke. “Who’s in Texas?”   
  


“Just a few friends.”

“Glad to know you still got those.”   
  


“Yea, I guess I’m more worried about Junior. We’ve never left this place and I’m not really sure what’s out there.” Tucker admitted. 

David thought for a moment. He didn’t take into account about Junior. He’s never had a kid so he didn’t know how hard it was, but he was sure it was pretty damn hard to raise a kid during the apocalypse. The fear that at any given time something could happen to them would scare Washington shitless. Kids by themselves were a big responsibility. Add the apocalypse to that and the responsibility tripled.

“He seems like a good kid. Responsible, he held that gun like a pro.”   
  


“Yea. Hopefully once we get to Texas, he can stay that way.”

Washington sighed. “I don’t mean to sound rude but, Texas is a dead end. The place is overrun by Zs.”

Tucker nodded. “I know...I just don’t want him to be alone. I mean I’ll eventually die. Probably soon. I want him to be ready and by people I trust if anything were to happen.”

David nodded. He didn’t really know what to say. He had never had to think about that kind of stuff before because he hadn’t traveled with anyone since North and York. He didn’t know what it felt like to want to protect someone like that. 

“I’m sorry you have to do this alone.” He said. 

Tucker smiled softly. “I’m sorry you’ve been traveling alone.”

David forced a smile. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Maybe not. You don’t have anyone to watch over you.”

“I don’t have anyone to drag me down either.” Washington thought for a moment. “Not saying anything about Junior. I mean. Not that he’s a burden.” He rambled.   
  


Tucker laughed. “I understand. Jesus, you’re so awkward.”

“Me?”   
  


“Yes you. When's the last time you’ve spoken to anybody?”

David shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

“Apparently.” The other man joked.   
  


David laughed and it was quiet.

Tucker yawned tugging Junior’s blanket over him. “Nice talking to you, I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

David nodded as Tucker laid down on the couch. “Maybe in the morning, I could take you guys to Texas. I have nowhere else to go.” Wash shifted his stance as he looked towards the other male, trying to determine his reaction. “I mean if you want to.” He stammered.

Tucker chuckled and Wash thought he was about to be called a dork again. “That’s sounds good.” Tucker said instead as he turned to further lay into the bedsheets. 

“Goodnight Wash.” Tucker mumbled.

Wash smiled. “Goodnight, Tucker.” 

He didn’t fall asleep when Tucker did. He waited until he was sure Tucker was fast asleep. It’s not that he didn’t trust Tucker, it was just a force of habit. David eventually fell asleep with the events of the day playing over in his mind.

He enjoyed Tucker.

He used to think that he was alone for a reason, that maybe it should always stay that way.

But since he’d met Tucker, he started thinking that maybe it was time for a change of pace.

Maybe, he had finally found his will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, a plan was set, everything should be fine, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is already done, but I still need to edit the final chapter. Thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, they mean a lot, especially since this story was my way to get back into writing after my break : )
> 
> Enjoy <3

Being woken up to the feeling of being continuously poked in his shoulder may have been irritating, but not at all surprising. Junior opened his eyes and instantly saw his dad looking at him with a finger over his mouth, as to tell Junior to be quiet. Tucker backed up slightly from his son and gestured for him to get up. Junior rubbed at his eyes and looked out the window. 

It was pitch black outside. 

It only took a glance to the other side of the couch before the teen instantly understood what was happening. 

Namely by the fact that Washington was still asleep. 

Junior carefully grabbed the corner of the blanket covering him with a smirk and tossed the end over the couch. He sat up and planted both of his feet on the carpeted floor, looking up at his dad who gestured once more for him to get up, slight irritation added in his movements. Junior rolled his eyes and stood up off the couch, looking towards his dad who only pointed towards the door as Junior walked over there and waited. 

Tucker made a move to follow his son, but not before turning to look at Wash and waving a goodbye, that Wash would never see. 

For the whole 4 years of apocalypse; it had just been Junior and Tucker. Nobody else. 

Not that they hadn’t seen people since then, they just kinda didn’t need anyone else. 

They had seen people. But, they drove all those people away. Kind of. 

The first person they saw since the apocalypse hung around them for a day. The person said his name was CT. Tucker never saw his face on account that he always kept it covered, but he knew one thing; that dude was a heavy sleeper and also kind of a dick. So, they didn’t mind ditching him and taking his shit.

The second person they encountered during the apocalypse, was a girl. She drove up and down their street eight times before Tucker got out his gun and began firing bullets. She dove out of the car and ran away. He never saw her face, but he did know she  _ was _ a mom. The car was filled with random mom things, and had a stroller in the back. So, she had to have  _ been  _ a mom. 

That or she stole the car, as they would do later.

It was probably the second thing.

The last person they had met since Washington was...complicated. He was an asshole, who had somehow wandered into their lives. Tucker hadn’t been able to rob him or con him or get him to fuck off. He was too smart for that. So, they kept him around for a while. Because although he was an asshat who thought he was the greatest thing ever and said a lot of hateful things, he also said a lot of sweet things and provided for them. 

Tucker should have robbed his ass and left. 

Maybe he was just salty because that asshole beat him to it.

Long story short; Tucker and Junior were better off alone. 

They didn’t need someone to pretend to like them and then last minute ditch them with nothing. Besides, Washington was just gonna leave with his car. Granted, he claimed he’d take them to Texas and he hadn’t left when he could have and Tucker did kind of like the guy...

He wasn’t bad company, or bad looking. 

But, the apocalypse meant nothing belonged to anyone. It meant worrying about yourself and that was it. Fend for yourself and forget everybody else. The only person Tucker should be worried about was Junior. 

Everything he did in the apocalypse should benefit Junior and if it didn’t; there was a problem.

Washington would have been a nice, sexy distraction from the apocalypse, but it took the attention off of Junior. And having more people around meant more mistakes. In the apocalypse, a mistake could be the end. So, they didn’t need Wash. Where they were going, they would be safe. They just needed to get there. 

Tucker slowly ushered Junior out of the way and opened the door.

The door opened without a creek as they stepped outside. The darkness of the early morning made a cool breeze as Junior followed Tucker to the open garage. 

“What about our stuff?” The teen whispered. 

“Already in the car.” Tucker informed him quietly.

Junior nodded and stood by the passenger door, waiting until Tucker got in and unlocked the door for his son. Junior hopped in and once they were seated, the teen noticed how Tucker sighed as he hesitated turning the key in the ignition. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

Junior had been young when the apocalypse started. He didn’t remember much pre-Z. All he knew was the apocalypse; stealing, foraging, and surviving. For him, ditching people like this was routine. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Junior joked from the passenger seat. 

Tucker forced a smile as he fired up the ignition. He buckled his seatbelt and put on a pair of biker sunglasses from his pocket. “Hell yea.” He agreed before pulling out of the driveway and driving away.

Junior grinned from his seat. “Texas here we come.” 

Tucker nodded and glanced over at his son. “Buckle your seatbelt.” He told him sternly.

Junior frowned and with a cough continued talking. “But I’m sick.” He whined. 

Tucker amusingly shook his head. “Oh cut the act and buckle your seatbelt.”

Junior rolled his eyes, buckling his seatbelt. “Hey, my acting skills saved your ass.” He pointed out.

Tucker mocked fake offense as he turned the corner out of the neighborhood. “We would have been fine.” He gawked. 

“Why do I even have to put on an act?” Junior grumbled. “You always make me do that.” 

“Because if something were to happen, you’d be safe.” Tucker argued. “Nobody’s gonna kill a sick kid or his father.” 

“Oh, so I’m your pity card?” 

Tucker chuckled. “I’m just surprised you remembered the code word.”

“I’m surprised that dumbass agreed to stay the night.” Junior mused with a chuckle. 

Tucker got quiet and Junior looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. 

Tucker glanced over at his son. “What?” He asked when Junior just smiled at him and continued laughing as Tucker looked back towards the road. “What are you laughing at?”

“I'm starting to think,” Junior started, leaning back against his seat. “That you actually liked Wash.” He teased.

“I did not.”   
  


“I can see the lies straight through those lame dollar store glasses.”

Tucker scoffed. “You can not!” He put on a pout in an attempt to change the conversation. “And my sunglasses look fucking awesome.”

Junior rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh yea? Then what’d you leave him with?” 

Tucker paused. “His gun with a bullet in the chamber.”

Junior smiled. “You totally like him, I bet you even left the alarm on.” His smile however quickly turned into a frown. “No more liking people.” He told his father sternly. 

“I can like whoever I want.” Tucker protested quietly. 

Junior’s expression became sour as he looked over at his dad. “And look at where that got us before?”

Tucker sighed. “That was different.”

“Really? Because Felix seemed nice at first too.” 

Tucker clenched his nails around the steering wheel. “We said we wouldn’t talk about him.” He said through gritted teeth.

Junior nodded, guilt seeping in. “Right, sorry.” 

It was a few minutes of awkward silence before Junior leaned forward and began messing with the dial on the radio. It was mostly static playing until the station began playing music. 

_ “Oh no, I can’t slow down.” _

Rock music began playing through the car speakers as the car rolled over the concrete road.

_ “I can’t hold back, though you know I wish I could.” _

The houses behind them growing smaller and smaller as they drove away.

_ “Oh no, there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” _

Window down, music loud, and worries forgotten. He’d worry about everything some other day.

_ “Until we close our eyes for good.” _

* * *

He meant it when he said he found sleep that night. 

He just didn’t expect to sleep  _ that  _ well. 

Maybe it was because he was in a comfortable place, maybe the two people he was currently with helped remind him what a home felt like. 

All he knew was that, that was the best night’s sleep he had gotten in years. 

It was so good that he woke up happy to the sound of the blaring alarm. 

Which was something that never happened to him anymore. 

When the world stripped you of all comforts, joys, and people and replaced it with disgusting living conditions, hatred, and undead monsters; happiness became a myth. 

But, he felt happy. 

That was- 

Until he realized he was alone. 

At first he was confused, because surely they couldn't have actually been gone, right?

But realization sunk in and with it came a pain he hadn't felt in a long time. 

The pain of losing someone. 

No amount of hurt in his life could compare to the way Wash felt right then and there. 

There were so many things he wanted to do. 

Scream at nothing, hit something, anything. 

Because he should have known. 

If something seemed too good to be true, then it probably was. 

He probably should have taken a moment to let the pain sink in, get over it, and then access his situation and reasonably plan from there.  But instead, he stood in the middle of the room, his fists clenched and his breathing hitched as he looked down at a gun sitting calmly on a table. 

He checked and it had a single bullet. 

Underneath it was a note. Written in sloppy handwriting and in blue crayon.

_ “Good luck.” _

Bullshit. 

Luck didn’t exist. 

And if it did, then there was no point in leaving any sort of note because all the luck he did have was now gone. 

They met out of luck. They stayed together out of luck. Wash almost killed him minutes after meeting him. Tucker was his luck. 

Or he thought he was. 

Wash searched the house and found nothing. So now, not only was he a sole survivor, once again, in the filthy, dangerous world that they now lived in, but he had no water, no food, barely any ammo, and a quickly decreasing will to keep going. 

“Great.” He huffed with a sigh, ultimately defeated. 

He took a deep breath and attempted to control his emotions. 

But, it was hard. 

Because he was angry, so fucking angry. 

_ Why did they do that? _

He stormed out of the house, slamming the door and marching down the concrete stairs. Not caring that he had already begun to attract the attention of several Zs. In his defense, the Zs probably only began coming out of their hiding because the sound of the car stirred them up.

_ He thought they had something.  _

A few Zs bolted up to him, twisting their limbs and arching their heads to get closer. One attempted to scratch him and Wash grabbed its arm and kicked it to the ground, stepping on its head;  _ hard _ , not even whinicing as an unsettling squelch noise was heard. He let his anger take over as he saw the head of the Z explode under his boot into hundreds of tiny bits. 

_ The way Tucker smiled at him.  _

Wash pulled out the gun that had been left for him and hit a Z over the head with it, he kicked it down and grabbed another by the front of the shirt and slammed it into another. The zombies stumbled back unexpectedly and tripped over the dead body of the other. 

_ The way Tucker made him smile.  _

Washington glared as the Z on the ground got up and charged at him. As it bolted his way, Wash moved out of the way just in time and swung the end of his pistol as hard as he could towards its head, effectively creating a hole as the Z twitched and gurgled blood. He used the bottoms of his bloody boots to finish it off. 

_ Why did everything good in his life have to be yanked away? _

He turned around quickly to see a Z charging at him. He wasn’t quick enough and got into an unwanted wrestling match with one as the other attempted to claw its way towards Washington. 

David was able to keep a grip on them both just long enough to take them both out with one bullet. 

_ Why did he trust them? _

He was such an idiot. He had just met them, why the hell did he let his walls drop like that?

He sighed as thick, black blood splattered across his face. 

Two bodies dropped and he was left to look at the damage he’d done. 

The street was a blood fest. Black liquid was dripping down the street into the curves of the curb, long red, mushy string of flesh were sprawled around him.    
  


It looked disgusting.

He felt disgusting, covered head to toe in vulgar amounts of blood. 

But, he felt less frustrated. 

He got mad, acted out, and now it was time to move on. 

* * *

“Booyah motherfucker!” Tucker cheered with a smile. 

The car hit a bump and Junior clutched his seatbelt. “Ooh, get that one!” He said, enthusiastically pointing to another Z wandering in the middle of the road. 

There were tons of them. 

Literally tons. 

They lingered the streets of the popular city, wandering around the sidewalks, searching for something to munch on.

They came out by the dozens from all parts of the street and slowly tailed after the car. Emerging from restaurants, alley ways, bus stops, and stores, they began sprinting towards the incoming truck bulldozing through them. 

Tucker smiled, ramming the car into another zombie. Blood splattered onto the edges of the windshield. The car hit another swift bump as the head and body of the Z was crushed and churned through the wheels of the vehicle. 

“Fuck yea!” Junior applauded. “That was awesome!” 

“I know.” Tucker said with a grin. 

They had the windows to the car rolled down the entire way and the wind felt great as rock music played on high volumes throughout the car. So, it was safe to say that the high rush of adrenaline was definitely there and the nonsensical joy in ripping the monsters he grew to hate with the treads of his car, definitely helped ease some of his worry and regret about leaving Wash.

“Get that one!” Junior pleaded. “And that one!” 

Tucker continued colliding into Zs, the smile from his son making him smile too. 

“Fucking idiots.” Junior commented with a laugh.

“Yea,” Tucker agreed. “They’re not very smart.” 

They continued driving down the Z filled street until suddenly a large crack noise was heard and the car sputtered a few times before coming to a halt. 

“Um, Dad?” 

Tucker wiggled the keys in the ignition and hit the break, attempting to get the car to turn back on. 

Junior looked out the window and noticed Zs charging at them at full speed, only a few feet away from their open windows. “Dad. hurry!” the child looked behind them and froze. 

To his horror, there were about 50 Zs trailing slowly behind them and it only got worse as others caught up, spilling out from the streets, headed straight towards the car. “Dad! Roll up the windows they’re trying to get in!” 

Zs began reaching their hands through the windows. Tucker backed away from their dirty nails and felt the car begin to shake as zombies crowded around it and tried getting in. 

“They’re gonna tip it over!” The panic in Junior’s face was clear as he scooted back away from the window. 

Tucker took a hurried breath and looked around the car for a way out. “Fuck.” He hissed under his breath. He turned towards Junior and almost broke as he saw the fear in his son’s eyes. “Crawl into the back and grab your bag, look for long sharp items.” 

Junior nodded hurriedly and quickly crawled in the back as Tucker pulled out a knife from the glovebox, using it to stab at a Z from the window. 

Junior popped his head out over the middle glove box a second later. “Will this do?” He asked, handing Tucker a long, black window cleaner. 

Tucker looked unsure for a second before taking it and snapping the brush part off of it, effectively creating a sharp stick. He handed it back and reached up to the sunroof, pulling back the cover. 

Junior held the stick to his side. “That was cool.” He said quickly. 

“Good,” Tucker said, his voice stressed. “Because it hurt like hell, now climb up.” 

“Up there!?” Junior questioned, looking at his father like he was insane. “They’ll kill me.” 

“Junior,” Tucker stressed. “It’s our only way out.” 

And it was. 

They could always stay in the car, but the way it was rocking back and forth indicated they wouldn’t last long. 

Junior bit his lip and looked on the verge of tears and he holsted himself through the sunroof. Tucker stabbed at a few Zs, before following after Junior. 

It looked even worse from on top of the car. 

Dozens of zombies surrounded the car and clawed at the paint job as they attempted to hoist themselves up. 

“The fast ones are getting up!” Junior screeched, planting his feet apart from each other in order to keep his balance on the rickety car. 

“Stab them!” Tucker replied, back to back with his son, looking for a way out. 

Junior took the pointy end of the plastic stick and began thrusting the end at Zs, effectively skewering a few. 

Tucker looked around frantically, taking a second to kick a Z off the side of the car every now and then. 

There was a building near them with a ladder hanging off the top, most likely from a work in progress paint job, but there didn’t look to be any way to get up it, unless…

“Hand me the stick.” Tucker instructed.    
  


“What are you gonna do?” 

“Just hand it to me!” Tucker pleaded. 

Junior handed him over the stick and Tucker tucked it into his pants. “Turn around, I’m gonna hoist you onto the side of the building.”

“Are you crazy!” Junior screamed, turning around to see the half-painted brick building. He saw the ladder that his dad was probably going for, but it didn’t look nearly close enough for them to make. 

“When I let go of you, I need you to hold onto that ledge and quickly grab the ladder.” Tucker instructed, kicking Zs away as the car quickly went from black to red. 

“I’m not doing that, I’ll die!” Junior protested. 

“I swear to god, Junior.” Tucker hissed. “I am going to throw you.” 

“Ok,” Junior whimpered, turning around to face his dad. 

Tucker leaned down. “Put your hand on my shoulder.” 

Junior did as he was told, wincing as wandering hands from the zombies seeped closer. 

Tucker put his hands under Junior’s right foot and looked up at him. “Get ready.” He said.

Junior braced for impact as his father hoisted him up. The teen attempted to reach out for the ladder as he was lifted up. He grabbed at a loose brick and felt his father’s hands leave his body. The weight of himself almost caused him to fall as he frantically grabbed at the end of the ladder. 

He almost missed it, but held on and began scaling up the side of the building, till he could safely plant his feet on the steel ladder. 

He made it to the top of the building and looked back down at his father as he stabbed a zombie in the face with the crafted spear and pushed it back onto other Zs. 

“Behind you!” Junior yelled as a Z effectively climbed up the back of the car and began charging at him. 

Tucker swung around and planted his left foot supportively behind him, holding the stick out in front of him to keep the Z from knocking him off the car. 

Junior bit his lip as the wandering hands from Z began getting closer to his dad. He looked around on the rooftop for anything sharp and grabbed a decent sized concrete brick, chucking it at a Z. 

At the same time, Tucker used a great deal of strength to knock the Z off the car into the pile of monsters surrounding him. 

“How are you going to get up?!” Junior screeched. 

“Does the ladder come down?!” Tucker yelled back, using the pointy end of the stick on a Z. 

Junior moved over to the side of the building and inspected the ladder, shaking it a bit until it dropped down a few feet. 

It was still quite the jump, but it looked more manageable. 

Tucker glanced over his shoulder to see the ladder drop as a Z gripped the black stick and attempted to rip it from Tucker’s grasp. Tucker quickly let go, not wanting to be pulled forward into the hoard of zombies. 

Only problem now was all he had was a combat knife. 

Tucker quickly turned around and planted his feet steadily on the roof of the car. He backed up and ran forward, jumping towards the building. Grasping the bottom of the ladder, Junior ejected his hand to help pull him up. 

Tucker planted his feet on the side of the building and used the ladder as handles to hoist himself up. 

When he made it up safely to the top of the building, he collapsed on the roof with a huff, his arms and legs aching from the tedious climb. 

Junior looked over the edge at the car as Zs began clamoring over it, attempting, and failing, to reach them. He winced. “How much of our stuff was in there?” He asked. 

Tucker let his arms sprawl out onto the hot concrete as he looked up at the sky. “Nearly all of it.” He exasperated, still out of breath. 

Junior sighed and slumped down next to a pile of bricks. “I still got my bag.” He suggested positively. 

Tucker huffed as he closed his eyes. 

It must be karma for abandoning Wash like that. 

Even he admitted that was shitty. 

* * *

He wasn’t sure where he was walking.

Direction no longer became a priority as it exceeded to take up space in his thoughts. He just looked a certain way and had been walking in that direction ever since.

It must have been hours.

Hours he spent soaked in thick, black blood that was beginning to quickly dry; red speckles splattered across his face as he tirelessly walked down an empty road with nothing but an empty gun in his hand. 

He admitted that at the beginning of his walk he had let his anger drive him and direct his decisions, especially when it came to the Zs he came across. But now, his anger had simmered down and all he was was confused.

Thoughts jumbled in his mind over the recent events of the morning. 

He had it all worked out.

The when, the how, and the what. 

The only thing he didn’t have was the why.

Because it just didn’t make sense.

Why would they just leave? 

Washington really thought they had something. It was more than the way they communicated and worked together, it was the way Wash felt with him.

It just felt...right.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He had been doing just fine, surviving the apocalypse depending on just himself. Sure, it was meaningless and lonely, but hell, he was alive and that was all that mattered.

He was able to keep moving even without all the things he thought he needed such as; hope, will, and other people.

So why was it that all of a sudden he needed all the things he had never needed before?

Maybe it was because he did have them momentarily and he had just simply forgotten how amazing they felt.

Maybe he forgot that he needed them. 

Maybe he just needed the right person to remind him just how much he needed them.

Only that person up and left and Wash couldn’t figure out why.

Washington continued walking until he saw an exit sign for a nearby gas station. Deciding he needed supplies and had nothing to risk or lose, he began walking the few miles towards what he hoped would be a hoard of Zs.

Yea, that’d be nice. 

He turned the corner and was disappointedly not met with a hoard of Zs. 

The car in its place was pretty cool though. 

* * *

“This fucking sucks.” His son sulked next to him, causing Tucker once again to roll his eyes. 

Tucker used the blade of his knife once more and dug under the nail pining the wooden board to the entrance door. “Yea well,” He stressed as he used all his strength to try and pull the nail out. “It’s kind of our only option.” 

Junior sighed and kicked at the dirt under his shoe. “I hate backtracking.” He complained. 

Backtracking did suck, but it was their only option. There was only one way off the top of that building and it was to go backwards towards the apartment complex. After that, they were forced to walk around, not wanting to go through the Zs that surrounded the city. 

Damn, he really missed Wash’s company.    
  


Of course, his son wasn’t bad company. But, if Wash was here; he’d at least be helping him out instead of complaining.

Tucker rolled his eyes as the knife was pushed forward and he lost his grip. “Well, don’t just sit there and complain.” He replied. “Go enjoy the view or something.” 

“I’ve already seen it!” Junior whined. “We passed by it twice already.” 

Tucker huffed as he realized the door was not budging. He stepped back from the bolted door to view his progress and groaned realizing he hadn’t put in as much as a dent to the bolts holding the door closed. 

“I think we’re gonna have to find another way in.” He concluded. 

Junior looked up from the dirt and raised a brow. “No shit,” He marveled. “I’ve been saying that for like 20 minutes.” 

Tucker smiled, turning to head around the building. “Yea, but it only matters once i’ve said it.” He replied cockily. 

Junior followed after, hoisting his bag more sturdily around his shoulder. “Ok, boomer.” 

Tucker rounded the back of the building and saw another door. It appeared to be bolted as well as the one in the front, only more busted up. Someone had probably been chucking rocks at it for hours. “I’m thinking we can use you as our human barricade.” Tucker commented with a smile. 

Junior scoffed. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s the point.” Tucker joked as he put his knife away and shook the wooden planks, inspecting their sturdiness. 

His smile grew as one split in half just at the slight jiggle he gave them. 

“Back up,” He instructed Junior. “I’m blasting through.” 

Junior backed up and raised a brow at him, his father’s antics a mystery to him. 

He asked him about it once, saying something along the lines of ‘Dad, why do you have to be so damn extra?’ 

The response he got could only be summed up to ‘You gotta enjoy the little things’. Whether that be ramming down dozens of Zs, writing dirtbag on a trapped zombie’s forehead, painting GAY in big red letters on a busted down car, or, Junior thought with a smile as he backed up out of his father’s way, kicking down a door like an idiot. 

Tucker backed up and with all his force, used his foot to ram into the loose planks hanging crookedly off the door. 

The board split with a satisfying ‘Crack’ and crumbled to the ground. 

Backing up, Tucker smiled. “I learned that from Karate kid.” He remarked. 

“Who?” 

Tucker glanced over at him and then back at the door, waving him off. “You wouldn’t know,” He stated. “before your time.” 

Junior stuck his tongue out at his father. “Not my fault you’re old.” He countered. 

Tucker gawked at him. “I’m only 14 years older than you.” 

Junior chuckled. “Still old.” 

Tucker dismissed him, reaching into his back pocket for his knife. “Don’t be jealous because I was getting pussy at 14.” 

Junior winced. “Gross.”

Tucker chuckled at the discomfort of his child as he reached for the doorknob to the abandoned gas station exit. He pulled it open and backed up, knife at the ready in case there were any Zs in the building. 

He glanced towards Junior who only shrugged at him. “I don’t hear anything he commented.” 

Tucker nodded, glancing into the dark room. “That’s how they get you.” He told him quietly, before using the top of his knife to knock at the door. “Hey-yo!” He called into the room. “Any hotties in there?” 

Junior grimaced. “Stop hitting on the zombies.” 

Tucker shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.” He said with a wink. 

Junior rolled his eyes. “You’re disgus-” He paused, a change of light coming from the inside the gas station causing him to stop. “Dad, watch out!” 

Tucker quickly turned as a zombie sprinted at him, stumbling into the door as Tucker quickly kicked it away and pinned it against the steel plating, swiftly using the end of his knife to stab it in the head. 

The movements caused by Tucker and the zombie, activated the motion sensor lights in the building and it only took a few seconds of the lights flickering for Tucker to notice about a dozen zombies, with their heads down, lingering in the room, swaying slightly. 

Tucker froze as he let go of the dead body under his arms and allowed it to slowly slink to the ground. 

Junior paused and watched as Tucker slowly began backing away, probably hoping they could get away before they noticed him. 

One snarled and cocked its head up towards the ceiling before twitching its neck in an inhuman manner towards Tucker. It stared at him for a split second before screeching manically and attracting the attention of every other Z in the room. 

Tucker backed away from the door and attempted to slam it close, but with the dead body in the way, there was no way of shutting it fully. That didn’t stop him from trying though as mangled arms scratched at the side of the door as Tucker attempted to keep it closed. 

Junior knew there was no way he could keep it contained for much longer, no dozen body force could be held back by a single man. So, he quickly pulled the strap of his backpack over his other shoulder and began looking for something heavy to shut the door with. 

His eyes darted to a large dumpster on wheels and he quickly rushed over and began pulling it towards the door. Tucker reached forward, grabbing the front end of the barrel as Junior struggled to wheel it over. 

It wasn’t enough though as Tucker backed away and pulled out their only weapon of defense. 

Zombies’s limbs seeped through the door and a few rushed out at a time, crawling under the dumpsters.    
  


Tucker tried to knock them down as they crawled out from underneath the dirty bins, but it became obvious fairly quickly that they were outnumbered. 

Tucker backed further away from the door as more crawled out. He stood in front of Junior with the knife up to his chest. 

They could run, but where to? And for how long? 

Those creatures would catch up to them. 

Their only way out was through. 

“Get ready to run.” Tucker told Junior. 

“No way.” The teen hissed.

Tucker didn’t have time to debate it with the child as zombies began picking themselves up off the ground and running towards them. 

The first few Tucker had down easily within seconds, but as more came in larger groups it began to be a challenge. 

He grabbed one by the back of it’s shirt as it pushed past Tucker and attempted to pounce on Junior. Tucker swung it around and jabbed the end of his knife into it’s skull. But they were leaking through and Tucker could no longer hold them all off. 

One charged past him and jumped at Junior, using its one good arm to bring them both to the ground. 

Tucker stabbed frantically at the Z at his feet, trying to push them back in order to get to his son. 

Junior fell back on the dirt, the zombie rutting against him and angling it’s jaw, attempting to get a bite of him. “Dad!” The child screeched as the zombie managed to pin his arms down and roared a vengeful sound from the back of its throat as it prepared itself to lunge its teeth into the side of the teen’s throat. 

A gunshot was heard and the dirty Z that had previously had a grip on him, went limp, collapsing to the ground next to him. 

Tucker kicked one of the undead back off of him and swung his knife, stabbing it in the forehead, before looking over his shoulder to see where the shot came from.

He didn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved to see Wash, gun raised as he fired two more bullets into the charging undead that had turned their attention on the newfound noise. 

The bodies collapsed with a heap as Tucker finished off another with his knife. He sighed and shook the knife in his hand, effectively shaking off some of the blood before turning to face Wash. 

But Washington wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at the dead body next to Junior as the child pulled himself up off the ground. 

“Thanks.” He mumbled, wiping dust off his jacket. 

Washington turned to face away from them and began walking towards the front of the building. 

Tucker bit his lip and watched as he walked before running after. “Wash, wait!” 

Washington kept walking around the building as Tucker tried to stop him. “Wait!”

Wash turned around with a sigh and looked at him with tired eyes, his gun and hands lowered at his side and a truck visible behind him. “What?” He exasperated, sounding downright defeated. 

Tucker halted his movements and shifted his stance. “I-” He paused, not sure what he could say to make things better. This was the man who spared them, helped them, supported them and when they ditched him, he continued to protect them even when they didn’t deserve it. 

What could he say? I’m sorry? He could, but how believable would that be?

Thanks for saving us and all. I’m sorry I led you on and then left you for dead after stealing all your shit. Ready to kiss and make up now?

Washington shook his head and sighed. “Please, just don’t.” He pressed his nail into the side of his palm and looked away from Tucker’s gaze. 

“I mean it though,” Tucker said softly. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Washington looked up at him. “Then why did you?” He asked. 

“I-” Tucker stopped himself. “I don’t know. It's just what I know how to do.” 

Washington scowled. “That’s it? That’s your excuse? The apocalypse made me do it?” 

Tucker frowned. “No that’s not,” He stopped. Who the fuck was he kidding? He was a shitty person, that’s all there was to it. “I guess.” He mumbled. 

Washington stared, a mix of disappointment and sadness churning through his system. Was he really giving up that easily? He wanted this to work. They’d both be so much happier if it did.

One reason, if Tucker could give him one reason. One explanation, anything.

Wash caught himself begging silently for Tucker to give him something that would prove him wrong. Prove to him that there was something between them, something good. When Tucker said nothing, Wash frowned. “Goodbye, Tucker.” He turned around and then started walking back towards the parked car, ignoring the quiet ‘I’m sorry’ he heard behind him. 

“It’ll be ok,” Junior consoled as his dad watched Wash drive away, stunned and obviously upset. “Everything will be fine once we get to Texas.” 

Tucker nodded slightly, but Junior could tell he wasn’t convinced. 

“What’s so great about Wash anyway?” He asked, trying to ease his dad’s mind. 

Tucker shrugged and Junior frowned. 

It was clear to the child that there was something his dad liked about Wash, something that kept him from being able to move on even as he drove away. 

He only hoped they’d both just figure it out already. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His actions were most certainly just. Besides, he could turn around anytime he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a bit of a wait, I can only use my phone and I was deciding if I wanted to make it 3 or 4 chapters.
> 
> I choose 4 :3
> 
> As always, I Hope you enjoy <3

“We’re gonna die out here!” Junior groaned as he dragged his feet along the dirt pathway. 

Tucker ignored his comments and held tightly onto the strap of the child’s backpack. The child who apparently was too tired to carry it himself, but obviously not tired enough to stop complaining. 

He wished he could find some water or transportation before they passed out of exhaustion. 

He wished a lot of things right about now. 

He wished he didn’t pussy out and stay in his neighborhood where it was safe instead of heading to Texas with Church. 

He wished he wasn’t as gullible as he was and that he hadn’t let himself get attached to Felix before he pulled the rug and left them with nothing. 

He wished Wash was here. 

“Hey,” Junior eased, running up to him. “What the hell's wrong with you?” 

“I’m tired, Junior.” Tucker drawed out. “I’m not a little kid.” His father teased, knowing full well Junior would not appreciate being called a child. “I can’t walk 10 miles in the sun with no food or water like you can.” 

“Hey! I’m no kid.” Junior protested. “Could a kid whoop a zombie’s ass into submission like I could?” He questioned cockily. 

Tucker smiled and shook his head lightly. “I’ll give you that one.” 

“When you were my age, you were still in diapers.” Junior mocked playfully. 

“When I was  _ your _ age,” Tucker corrected. “I was waiting in the hospital for a little brat to pop out of his mom.” 

Junior winced. “Ew, I don’t wanna hear about my mom’s,” He stopped himself, shuddering as Tucker laughed at his level of disgust. 

Junior huffed, lagging behind once again as he shut his mouth, not wanting to elicit more explicit content from his father. 

Tucker laughed. That shut him up.

“Hey Junior!” He called to his son a second later. 

Junior squinted his eyes and put his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear anymore about my mom’s coochie!”

Tucker scoffed. “It’s not that,” He dismissed. “And don’t use that word, it’s vile.” 

“Why’s it matter?” Junior asked, uncovering his ears to look over at his father who stopped near a seemingly broken down Honda. “No one’s left alive to care.” 

His son wasn’t wrong, but even in the apocalypse he shouldn’t totally disregard parenting him. “I care.” Tucker snipped. “Now come over here and hold your bag while I check this car.” He instructed, sliding the bag off his shoulder and holding it out for Junior. 

Junior took the bag and let it slump on the ground next to him, a lazy grip keeping it at his side. “Think it’ll work?” The teen asked. 

“That’s what I hope to find out.” Tucker mused, checking the back seat of the car for Zombies before opening the front door and hoping in. He looked around for a key and finally came across it on the dash. 

Junior walked over to the open front door and watched as his father attempted to get the engine started. “If it works can I drive?” 

Tucker turned the key in the ignition. “No.” He stated as the car sputtered.

“Please?” Junior pleaded. 

Tucker sighed as the car failed to turn on once again and sputtered to a stop. “Tell ya what, Junior. If you can get the car going, then you can drive it.” He compromised, knowing fully well the car had gone to shit and wouldn’t start. 

Junior smiled, taking the keys from him and hopping in the front seat while his father stepped back and took a break in a small shaded area.

Junior turned the key and frowned as the engine sputtered. “Come on, stupid thing.” He cursed, trying the engine again. 

“Junior,” Tucker exasperated. “I wasn’t being serious, the engines’ dead. You’re not going to get-” Tucker stopped as he heard the engine roar to life. 

“Haha, take that.” Junior cheered as he placed his hands steadily on the wheel. “I’m the mother fucking king!”

Tucker’s jaw was left hanging as Junior turned to him. “Get in passenger bitch.” 

Tucker shook his head. “No. No way. I didn’t actually think it would work and you can’t drive.” 

Junior smirked. “But you could teach me?” He asked suggestively. 

Tucker sat up and walked over to the car. “No way little man, in the back.” 

Junior huffed. “But you said that if I could start the car, I could drive.” 

Tucker bit his lip. “I did say that.” he muttered.

“And,” Junior added, putting emphasis to his words. “There’s nobody around for me to hit.” 

Tucker sighed and looked around the car at the empty streets before turning to grab Junior’s bag and toss it in the passenger seat. 

* * *

  
  


“Holy shit kid. BRAKE!” 

The car came to a screeching halt, causing both Tucker and Junior to jolt forward and test the restraint of the flimsy seatbelts that protected them from ramming into the dash. 

Junior winced. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

Tucker let out a sigh of relief as he let his head rest against the back of the seat. “Ok, um. Just back out.” He instructed. 

Junior nodded and slowly began backing out of the corner he had driven them into. 

“Watch out for the stop sign!” Tucker instructed with slight panic in his voice, looking back towards the back window of the car as Junior was too short too. “Aaaand, stop.” He informed when the car had successfully met the sidewalk. 

“Relax, I know what to do.” Junior replied, steering the car back on the road as he began driving in a somewhat straight line. “No need to be all screechy.” 

Tucker tightened his seatbelt and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as the car sailed pleasantly down the road. “There’s no relaxing with you behind the wheel.” Tucker mumbled, turning to face the front once again. 

“Then you shouldn’t have agreed to let me drive.” 

Tucker grinned. “Well I need someone to be the designated driver next time I come across a bar.” 

Junior frowned, straightening his posture so he could better see the road. “Hey don’t you dare ruin this by turning it into a chore.” 

“Too late.” Tucker replied causing Junior to huff. 

“You suck.” 

“Bow chicka bow wow.” 

Junior rolled his eyes. “Are you the kid or am I?” He asked, turning the corner.

Tucker was about to tease Junior for admitting to being a kid when the car turned too quickly and rode over the curb. “Jesus!” He screamed, grabbing at his seatbelt as Junior and him lost view of the road in front of them. The car jolted upward and in an attempt to rail them off the sidewalk, Junior spun the wheel and bulldozed the car, going 75 miles per hour, through a store window. 

A loud crash was heard as glass shattered and dust eroded from the untouched building. Broken pieces of glass scattered the car, causing uncertainty of whether it came from the store window or the car window. 

Junior sat upright in the seat clutching the wheel, his eyes squinted as if to prevent any glass from entering. He leaned back with a huff, his breathing hitched as he attempted to catch his breath and process what was happening. 

“Junior?” Tucker questioned as he was left in a similar state, staring straight ahead at the damage his son caused. 

“Yea?” 

“Remember when I was teaching you to ride your bike?” Tucker asked rhetorically, not breaking eye contact with the debris in front of him as Junior gave him a slight nod. “And the one rule for crossing into our street was to slow down at the corner because if you go too fast, you’ll crash.” 

The car was silent for another moment before Junior dropped his hands from the wheel. “I didn’t know that applied for cars!” He shrieked. 

Tucker nodded and held onto his handle, pulling it and kicking the door open. “It’s fine,” He said, getting out and kneeling to look in the car. “Are you alright?” He asked his son, leaning his arm above his head on the roof of the car. 

Junior nodded and grabbed his bag as his father waved him over. He got out on his dad’s side, due to his door being blocked by the brick building. 

Tucker helped him out and then walked around the car to get a good look at the damage. 

“Damn, kid.” He muttered, looking at the knocked over store shelves and broken glass littering the ground around them. 

Junior slung his bag over his shoulder and winced at the damage. “Maybe we can just back out?” He asked. “Who needs a windshield anyway?” 

Tucker shrugged and stepped over shattered glass to lean over and open the hood of the car. “Maybe.” He offered as he popped it open to reveal trails of smoke fluttering out of the engine. He coughed, waving the air around him to clear the air. “No,” He commented, shutting the hood quickly and looking out towards the open road ahead of them. “I think we're just going to have to walk.” 

Junior sighed and turned towards the road. “Fuuuuuuck.” He drew out.

Tucker laughed, walking past him. “Come on, car crasher.” 

“Why did you even let me drive?!” Junior exasperated, dragging his backpack out of the car and turning to follow his dad. 

“It’s fine, we would have ran out of gas anyway.” Tucker commented, raising his knife towards an incoming Z and grabbing the front of it’s shirt to steady it before stabbing it in the head. Tucker let the dead Z fall to the ground before looking around them. “Now, seriously hurry up. We probably attracted a shit ton of Zs with the crash and we can’t die when we’re this close.” 

“We’re almost there?” Junior questioned. 

“Yup.”

* * *

Washington was stuck. 

Not physically, but mentally. 

He now had a car, with decent supplies, and no destination. 

He told himself to not regret driving away. 

Don’t regret it because you know where they are and you know where they’re headed, he said to himself, looking forward at the cluttered road ahead of him. 

You can turn around whenever you want. 

But he didn’t, he couldn’t. 

It just wasn’t worth it. And that’s how he saw it. He couldn’t go back and take the risk that he’d be left again. He said it once and he’d say it again. He had nothing, the only thing keeping him going was luck and the mere fact that he didn’t want to keep going. 

Besides, Tucker left him first. He had a kid to deal with and obviously didn’t want Washington getting in the way of that. 

The road ahead of him began growing more and more cluttered with cars and the sun had begun setting, that was what made Washington decide he needed to find a place to loot. 

He had decent supplies, but not enough water to last him very long and he used most of his bullets at the gas station and only had a few left. 

Parking the car towards the side of the road, Washington grabbed his gun and his bag and carefully got out. He lifted his gun out in front of him and swung his bag over his shoulder as he stepped carefully over broken glass and crinkled pieces of paper. 

He looked around his terrain in consistent but sharp glances.

Left, right, behind, left right, behind. 

Walking down the sidewalk a little in the cluttered town, he stopped at an entrance to a store. 

_ ‘The Dough-nut hole’ _

An odd name for a cafe, Washington decided as he continued down the street until he spotted a small grocery outlet. 

He hadn’t seen a single zombie yet, which was...unnerving at most. 

Stepping into the store doorway, he knocked lightly on the metal door frame with his gun and then quickly raised it again, planting his feet firmly on the ground. 

When no zombie charged at him, he walked in further. 

Letting out a small breath and deciding the store was relatively safe, he began looking around for supplies. 

Shadows from the trees outside danced around him as the sun slowly began setting. 

Washington used the end of his gun to quietly push through scattered items on spare shelves, in the search for batteries or water. 

A clif bar would be nice too, but it wasn’t a priority. 

He needed water to drink, and batteries to put in his flashlight. 

Walking further down the aisles, he came to the conclusion that the store was larger than he gave it credit for. He’d been there ten minutes and only made it through two isles. Granted, he was being extra precautious. Quietly stepping down aisles and glancing around him every other second. 

Left, right, behind, left, right-

And that's when he heard a jingle. 

He whipped his head behind him and raised his gun instantly firing the weapon. 

The loud whimper he heard in exchange for growls caused him to rethink his actions. 

“Freckles!” A voice hollard, coming from a nearby aisle. 

Washington stared at the bleeding dog on the ground in front of him. 

The golden retriever whimpered a damaged screechy sound that sounded sadder than a whine as a large male ran by and slid to the ground, kneeling by the dog and looking quite horrified. 

The male had soft brown curls, wore a dark blue t-shirt, and had bright blue bandaids covering his knuckles, nose, and elbows. 

He couldn’t have been older than twenty. 

What had he just done?

“Oh, Freckles not you.” He cried pulling the dog towards him into a hug. 

Washington lowered his gun. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry, I thought that was a-” He moved forward to assist when another male turned the corner, gun in his hand pointed directly at Wash and a knife visible at his side. He had jet black hair and wore glasses, accompanied with dark bags under his eyes.    
  


Washington backed up and raised his own gun. 

“What the fuck, you dick!?” The stranger cursed, cocking his gun. “You shot a fucking dog!” 

Washington remained calm, keeping his own gun raised. “Look, it was an accident I thought she was a zombie.” 

“He,” The larger male on the floor corrected, petting the dog as it licked him back despite the wound in his leg. “Freckles is a he.” 

Washington nodded. “Ok, he. I didn’t mean to shoot him. Can we all just lower our weapons?”

The man in front of him did a double take between the dog and Washington. “You first.” 

Washington rolled his eyes. “Does it-” 

“You were the one that fired the first shot.” The stranger sneered. 

He did have a point. 

Washington lowered his weapon. 

And in turn, so did the stranger. 

“It’s gonna be ok, Freckles,” The large male cried. “We are going to get you help.” 

The man with glasses glared at Washington before looking over towards the dog. “We’ll wrap his leg, but I don’t know-”

“You have to fix him!” The stranger sobbed, looking up at Washington with tear-stained cheeks. 

“Me? I don’t-” Washington sputtered. “I have bandages in my car you can use.” He offered, not sure what else he could do.

The stranger sniffled, before nodding and standing up, picking the dog up with him. 

It was only then that Washington realized how bulky the innocent man was. He could definitely pumble Wash any day.

“It’s just out here.” Washington told them, leading them out to where his truck was. He exited the store, his gun at the ready, but not raised so he didn’t alarm the people he was with. 

When they made it to the truck, Washington opened the front door and dug through his bag before pulling out some stale bandages. “They're old, but they’ll work.” He told the man with glasses as he handed them off, feeling quite guilty for the pain he caused.

The larger stranger sniffled. “Thank you Mr. Stranger.” 

“It's uh, Washginton. David Washington.” He then thought about what Tucker had said and smiled slightly. “Or Wash.” 

The stranger smiled back at him. “I am Caboose and that is Church and this is Freckles.” 

“You already told him that, idiot.” Church grumbled as he ushered Caboose to stay still while he wrapped the dog’s leg. 

“Well, if that’s all I’m not much for sticking around.” 

Church scoffed as he tied off the bandage. “Yea, well me neither.” 

“I love making friends.” Caboose offered. 

Washington nodded. “Right, well I’ll just go my separate way then.” 

“Wait,” Church spoke urgently, glancing towards his car. “Does your radio work?” 

Washington glanced back and nodded. “Yea, why?” 

Church moved away from Caboose and towards the car. “I gotta call someone.” He muttered. 

Washington moved towards the car, alarmed. He had the keys so this guy couldn’t make away with his vehicle, but still it was his car. 

Church slid into the passenger seat and hoisted his backpack off his shoulder and onto his lap. 

“Can you actually call someone with a radio?” Wash questioned, brow raised as Church began digging through his bag. He took a glance in his backpack and noticed the large amount of wires and a small black box. 

Church shook him off. “Kind of,” He muttered. “Just shut up and let me do my thing.” 

It took half an hour. A full half hour of Church tweaking with his car, Caboose petting Freckles as he had laid him down in his backseat, and him stabbing Zs that lingered through the street. 

Half an hour until Church began cursing into some device. “Come on fucker pick up.” 

Washington glanced over, listening as Church yelled. 

“Seriously I need a ride and I know you're not that far out.” 

“How long till you last heard from this person?” Washington asked him, raising his knife and impaling a wandering Z with it. 

“A while,” Church grumbled. 

Washington didn’t need to say it. 

Whoever he was calling, was probably dead. 

“Seriously Tucker, this shit isn’t funny. Pick up right the fuck now.” 

That caught Washington’s attention. 

He whipped his head around, allowing the dead Z to go limp. “What did you say his name was?” 

“Tucker,” Church snipped, giving him only a glance before returning to his device.. “Now shut it, I’m working.” 

“You do not need to know about him,” Caboose informed him from the back seat as he scratched Freckles behind the ears. “He is very stupid and is not Church’s best friend. That would be me.” 

Washington let the comment slide and moved towards the front seat. “I know where he is.” He told Church. 

Church looked up at him and raised a brow. “You do? How?”

“We uh, crossed paths.” Washington degraded. “He was headed to Texas.” 

Church frowned. “Shit,” He cursed “That’s exactly what I was trying to prevent him from doing.”

“What, why?” Wash questioned. “Don’t you have a safe base or something?” 

“Had,” Church hissed from the passenger seat. “It got overrun. That dumbass is walking into a hoard of Zs.” 

Washington’s eyes widened. The only reason he was able to deal with leaving him was because he thought it was for the better. That Tucker would go his seperate way and live his life with his son in a safe space and Washington would fuck off to god knows where and live out the next few years or minutes of his life.

It changed things knowing Tucker was walking into a death trap. 

He may have still been mad at him, but he didn’t want him or his son to be ripped apart by flesh-eating monsters.

“We gotta go get him.” Washington announced, shutting the back seat door, shutting Caboose in the car. 

Church rolled his eyes. “You seem to be forgetting about the hoard of Zs that we’d be driving into!” He exasperated. 

Washington hopped into the front seat and shut the door, pulling out his key. “You don’t have to come with me.” He informed, putting the key in the ignition. “You're the one in  _ my  _ car.” 

Church went quiet and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Fine, but I get a ride to wherever I want after this and I’m not sacrificing my life for that idiot.”

He wouldn’t need to do that, Washington thought to himself as he grumbled “Deal.”, because he’d gladly sacrifice his own instead.

“Yay we are going to go save Tucker!” Caboose cheered from the back seat before coming to a small realization and frowning. “Oh wait,” He mumbled. “We are going to save Tucker.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan of action and paradise is sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I promise this is the last time I'm adding another chapter :D

“Junior, pull out your bag.” 

The teen stopped behind his father on the dirt road and rubbed at his eyes. “What?” 

Tucker nudged him. “Quick, pull out your bag!” He whisper shouted. 

Normally they wouldn’t be so quiet. Loud and proud was how Tucker had always run things. He was a master in tomfoolery and creating spectacles of himself and others in public, but right now they were walking alone, along a dirt road, in the middle of the night, with nothing but a combat knife. They needed to be precautious if they wanted to be alive to enjoy Church’s safe haven. 

And he would admit, he hadn’t been doing that good a job of keeping them out of trouble. 

But now that he was this close to getting Junior to somewhere where he would be ok and safe for the rest of his life, he was determined to get them the rest of the way.

Junior rolled his eyes, obviously tired as he let his bag slump down over his shoulder. “It’s too late for your antics.” He complained, handing his dad the bag. 

Tucker smiled. “Never too late for my antics.” He defended, digging through the front zipper before pulling out a small pocket-sized lighter and walking further down and off to the side of the road.

“What are you doing?” Junior questioned agitatedly, following along after him. 

“Just watch.” 

Junior continued watching as his dad hoisted himself up on a large rock off the side of the road, taking a fraction of his attention to hear a small noise behind him. He turned around and looked into the dark abyss that was the forest off the side of the road. 

The trees shook softly in the wind, but he could have sworn he heard something. “Uh, hey dad?” He questioned, watching cautiously behind him. 

“Hold on,” Tucker degraded. “I’m almost done.”

“Maybe we should keep moving.” Junior said quickly, the dark of the night and faint sound of distant growling ringing through his mind. 

“Relax,” Tucker told him. “Ok, now look.” 

Junior turned around and saw his father standing up on the rock with the lighter lit. The glow from the small metal object emitted the sign behind his dad, revealing in large white letters the words ‘Welcome to Texas’ written clearly across it, of course accompanied by the Texas flag.

“Are we-?” 

Tucker smiled bright. “Yup. Welcome to Texas.” 

Junior nodded, glancing back behind him alarmingly, an eerie feeling rising in his gut, before looking back towards his dad. “Yea, very cool. Can we keep walking now?” 

Tucker slid down off the rock. “What’s wrong? This is exciting.” 

Junior looked behind him. “Yea, well something’s off.” He said wearily, crossing his arms over his chest as the cool wind picked up and the darkness of the night surrounded them everywhere, but where the lighter shone on the old rusty sign. 

Tucker looked over to what Junior was looking at before slinging the backpack over his shoulders and tucking the lighter into his pocket. “We’ll get going then,” He decided. “Church’s camp isn’t far from here. We’ll be there soon.” 

* * *

“Turn left here.” 

“It’s getting late,” Washington commented, biting his lip as he looked out the windshield and at the car’s quickly depleting gas source. “How much farther is this camp of yours?”

“Not far,” Church snipped. “Now turn left.” 

Washington spun the wheel, turning the corner of the empty road. 

The beginning of the ride was filled with whines from Freckles, stories from Caboose, and complaining about said stories from Church. But the longer they drove; the more Freckles healed, Caboose quieted down, and Church...well he still complained and bitched every other second, but the car was still quieter. 

And as much as Wash was thankful for the peace, he was also upset for losing the distraction keeping him from having to think about what he was doing. 

“What’s your plan for when you get there?” Church asked, seemingly for the millionth time. “Just pull out your gun, fire some bullets, shoot some dogs, and hope all the zombies shit themselves and run away?” 

Washington gave him the side eye, before returning his attention to the road in front of him. 

He didn’t really have a plan. 

Which sounded dumb because you shouldn’t go into any firefight without a plan of action and what he was doing was irrational and idiotic and- 

He didn’t honestly know why he was doing it. 

He just knew he couldn’t let Tucker and Junior die. 

“I don’t know,” He muttered. “I’ll access it when I have a better idea of what the situation is.”

Church rolled his eyes. “I’ll tell you what the situation is,” He exasperated. “Zombies. A shit ton of them, in large groups. What’s there to understand about that?”

“Well, like you said. The Zs move in heards and they’re all moving to Texas for warm areas.” Wash reasoned. “So, the herd would be constantly moving. There’s some waiting that can play into this and also some guess work. I don’t know what it’ll be like when we get there, but there is a chance we can swiftly help them without drawing the attention of a moving herd that may not even be there anymore.” 

Church sighed, pushing his falling glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You seem to be forgetting,” He argued. “That my camp was a very large area with walls around it smack dab in the middle of a forest. When the Zs get to the walls,” He explained slowly. “They get scattered and come to a standstill of lingering around until provoked.” 

“I’m not an idiot. I know how the zombies work.” 

“Then why are you even attempting this?” Church exasperated, leaning his head tiredly against the palm of hand. 

Washington glared. “Because I-” He almost shouted before stopping himself and lowering his voice. “I care about Tucker and neither Junior or him deserve to die. Besides,” He degraded. “I don’t really have anything else to do.” 

And it was true. 

So true, the more he thought about it. 

He had nothing and Tucker was something. It may have seemed idiotic and reckless, but he didn’t have anything else to do or anywhere else to go. 

He came to that realization when he stumbled across Church. 

Because Church would be fine. He had Caboose and Freckles. Company that he had to take care of and keep alive. Something to wake up to every morning and to fall asleep to every night. Someone to talk to and make memories with. That was his purpose. To keep him and them going. 

And Wash? 

He had nothing. 

Not since he lost York, not since he lost North, not since he lost Carolina, and not since he lost Tucker. 

And when he did meet Tucker, it felt good because it gave him purpose. Someone to protect, and care for, and listen too. Someone to look out for. 

Someone who gave him a will to live. 

And without that, there was no point if he died in 20 years from natural causes or 1 hour because he attempted to save two people he had grown fond of. 

Church turned and squinted at Washington. “What happened between you two?” He asked. “Am I getting in the middle of some lovers' quarrel?” 

Washington scoffed, turning slightly red. “What? No.” He dismissed. 

“You sure? Because that sounded kind of gay.” 

“Church would know.” Caboose stated, poking his head out from the back seat. “He is a gay robot.” 

Church frowned. “I am no-” He was about to screech before waving the larger male back. “Just shut up and buckle your seatbelt!”

Caboose pouted and sat back. “Mr. Washington?” 

“Yes, Caboose?” 

“I have to pee again.”

* * *

“Shit!” The teen cursed, staggering over a loose branch. 

“Shh,” Tucker hushed, knife gripped in his hand and held out in front of him. He glanced back and waved Junior over. “And get closer I don’t want you getting lost or grabbed by a Z.”

Junior sped up, watching the twig and leaf cluttered ground as he got closer. “And what?” He asked, looking forward towards the dark forest. “The Zs won’t attack if they know you're with me?” He asked. 

Tucker nodded. “Damn, straight,” He muttered, glancing around him every other second in case a Z emerged. 

It was dark, they were in a crowded, unable to easily get away area, and they had only a knife. They needed to be careful.

They were too close to die now. 

“How much longer?” Junior whispered, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“It should be right up here.” Tucker told him, raising his head to try and get a glimpse of the objects ahead of them beneath the trees. 

When something tall, grey, with a little light visible caught Junior’s eyes, he smiled and sped up his pace. “I think I see something!” He yelled excitedly, moving ahead of Tucker towards what they assumed was the base. 

Tucker bit his lip, halting his movements slightly at the unknown object before hearing Junior shout and run by him. “Junior slow down,” He called, running after him. “You don’t know,” He began saying as the teen eventually stopped his movements in front of a large grey wall. “What’s out there,” Tucker finished, finally catching up to him. 

Junior looked up the wall and Tucker followed his glance. “Wow,” Junior muttered in awe. His mouth was left open in slight surprise before he smiled wide. “We gotta find the entrance!” He declared, placing his hand on the side of the wall, since he couldn’t exactly see if there was a door, and walking along it. 

“Junior, stay quiet.” Tucker hissed nervously. “I mean it. We're not out of the woods yet.” 

Tucker dropped some of his stiff stance and chuckled at his own pun. “Get it? Cause it's a saying and we're also in a forest.”

“You’re lame.” Junior degraded in front of him, more focused on finding some sort of gate or door. 

“If I’m lame, you're lame.”

“That’s not how it works.” 

Tucker scoffed. “Yes it is. Because I’m the parent and I say s-”

“I found something!” Junior interrupted happily, before realizing he yelled again and cautiously looked behind him. 

Tucker raised his knife and stiffened his stance. “Figure it out,” He instructed Junior. “I’m watching your back.” 

Junior nodded and felt around the side of the wall until he felt a handle. He smiled and made a move to open it when Tucker stopped him. 

“I’ll do it, just in case.” 

Junior nodded and backed away from the door, glancing behind him as his dad was no longer there protecting him. 

Tucker made a move towards the door, feeling off, based on the fact that he assumed there would be people on watch, guarding the base. Because you know, that's how bases were in the movies.

He let that slide however, as he could hear campfires sparking quietly inside the camp. Also, it was late and everybody was probably asleep. 

Tucker jiggled the handle and was surprised when it opened with ease. He hesitated pushing it open the full way, based upon their previous encounters with Zs. Some of them were sneaky and in the apocalypse you never knew what was going to happen. 

“What in the hell are you waiting for?” Junior questioned. “People, Dad. People are in there. Living breathing people.” 

Tucker nodded and reached into his pocket, grabbing his lighter and passing it back to Junior so they could have some form of light in case there wasn’t any. “You’re right.” Tucker agreed, before slowly pushing the door open. 

The door opened with a slight creak and Tucker stepped inside, looking around him with his knife held up in front of him. He glanced to the left and only saw dark. However, when he looked to his right, he could see a sliver of light shining through a crack at the end of the hallway. 

Junior followed after and held up the lighter, looking around the hallway in awe. 

Tucker nudged him slightly and gestured towards the end of the right hallway. “You start ahead that way. Imma shut this door and follow right behind you.” He eased. 

Junior nodded with a smile, the excitement of the possibility of a new zombie free paradise overwhelming him as he began walking down the hall with the lighter raised. 

Tucker shut the door carefully, successfully preventing any zombies from following them and began following Junior, glancing behind him every now and then. 

When they made it to the end of the hall, Junior smiled at the door in front of them and quickly swung it open wide, revealing a large, well lit room. “Woah.” He marvled, stashing the lighter in his pocket as he began looking around. 

Tucker followed in and couldn’t help but gawk at the lights strewn along the roof of the room, the multitude of books and tables scattered along the floor, and the neat display of pictures hung upon the walls. He lowered his knife and returned it at his side as he followed Junior deeper into the room. 

Junior noticed the closed doors along the walls and smiled. “Where do you think everybody is?” He asked.

Tucker shrugged, looking at the neat display of books and nonchalantly flipping one open. “Probably asleep.” He answered, the contents of a book that wasn’t an instruction manual surreal to him. 

“Think they’ll be upset we barged in like this?” Junior asked, looking at one of the pictures hanging on the wall. 

Tucker closed the book and walked over to his son. “I doubt it,” He told him. “Anyone could have gotten in easily and we’re not infected.” He told him, leaning past his son and opening the door next to him. “We just gotta find someone who’s up.” 

Junior nodded, stepping aside to allow his dad to lead the way. 

The door he opened led to a large room with large windows, rows of chairs and a giant piano perched by the back wall. The lights flickered slightly and a slight breeze blew in from a nearby window, causing crumpled up pieces of paper to fly delicately around the floor of the room. 

Junior looked around curiously, before smiling and running over to the piano. “What do you think this room is used for?” He asked. 

To Tucker, it looked like some kind of meeting room, or perhaps a Church. Maybe even a place to get married. But Junior wouldn’t understand any of those concepts. He wouldn’t remember attending Church as a baby with his Grandma or going to one of Tucker’s friend’s weddings as a toddler. So he kept his mouth shut and instead walked around the multitude of chairs that were set up. 

Junior looked upon the piano in amazement and lifted up the wooden piece, covering the piano keys. 

Tucker glanced over at him. “Hey, don’t touch that thing. You’ll wake somebody up.” He insisted, a red glow seeable outside through the window catching his attention. 

Junior scoffed. “I wasn’t gonna play it.” He said, with an amazed smile as he turned to the door that was in front of the piano. 

Tucker made his way towards the window and looked through it. It only took him a second to recognize the red glow outside to be a fire. 

He smiled. 

Because campfires meant people. It meant tents and warmth and food. 

In order for a campfire to exist; a living, breathing person had to have made it. 

And that he was excited about. 

Until he noticed something.

Junior tilted his head towards the door and excited to see what other wonders the building held, reached for the doorknob. 

The fire wasn’t a campfire. 

It was a literal fire.

The closer he looked the more he recognized the campfire as a catalytic amount of out-of-control flames that began to engulf wood and spread slowly across the ground. Burning everything in its path and leaving behind a smokey, black, burnt trail. 

And that’s when the light from the fire helped Tucker notice something else lingering outside. 

Zombies. 

“Hey, uh Junior?” Tucker questioned. 

Junior gripped the handle and pushed the door fully open, looking behind him as his father called his name. “Wha-” He barely got out before he heard growling coming from the door he just opened. 

“Junior get the fuck out of there!” 

Junior whipped his head around as he could faintly see the silhouette of a zombie charging from inside the room. 

He dived out of the way with a yelp as the Zombie sprinted past him, crashing in a pile of chairs. It quickly cocked it’s head in the teen’s direction and thrusted its arm out from the pile of chairs, ripping it clean off as blood splattered across the table and the limb was abandoned underneath it.

Junior’s eyes widened as he looked towards his dad who had begun running his direction. He quickly glanced back towards the zombie, who had now been accompanied by another zombie from the room and scattered to get around the large table. Jumping onto it and skidding off as the zombie picked itself up and began charging once more. 

Junior ran towards his dad, followed by the one-armed zombie that bolted after. Tucker lifted up a nearby metal chair and held it up steadily. “Duck!” He yelled as Junior ran by. 

Junior did as he was told, diving past his dad onto the dirty floor and under the steel chair. The Z followed close by and Tucker swung the chair at the Z’s face as hard as he could. The zombie fell to the ground; bloody wounds spread across his face as Tucker tossed the chair aside and ejected his combat knife into the Z’s head for extra measure. 

The second Z charged close after heading towards Junior, only to be stopped by Tucker who grabbed it by the back of it’s shirt and jabbed the knife into it’s back, ramming into the side of the window. The window held steadily and Tucker lifted the knife once more, finishing the Z off. 

Junior picked himself up from the dirty floor and leaned against the large window, catching his breath. “Is that all of them?” He asked. 

Tucker looked towards the door and ran over to shut it. “I think so,” He said, putting his ear up to the door as if to listen for more Zs. 

Junior nodded, finally being able to catch his breath, before jumping as a zombie rammed itself against the window from the outside. “Son of a bitch!” Junior screeched, jumping away from the window and watching as more Zs ran up to it, clawing at the glass. 

“What now?” Tucker drawled out with a groan, looking towards the window. He noticed the abundance of Zs, pounding their fists against the window and frowned. “Son of a bitch,” He mumbled, walking towards the glass. “When are we going to catch a break?”

“Maybe they won’t be able to break in?” Junior questioned sheepfully, flinching once more as a large cracking sound was heard. 

Tucker looked up at the large crack near the top of the window. 

He didn’t know much right now. 

About what happened at the base, how long ago it happened, or if anyone was even still alive. 

But he did know that they were not safe here. 

“Time to improvise.” He muttered, waving Junior over as he ran towards the door they entered from. 

Junior groaned, quickly following after. “I hate improvising.” 

Tucker ran down the hall with Junior close behind him until they reached the original door they entered from. He shook and twisted the handle and was down right horrified when it didn’t open. 

“What are you waiting for?!” Junior screeched. “Open it!”

“I can’t.” Tucker managed. “It's locked.” 

“What kind of fucking door locks on the inside?!” Junior screamed, looking towards the end of the lit hall as incoming groaning was heard. 

“Change of plans.” Tucker said, looking towards the left end of the hall. 

The very dark, unexplored, left end of the hall. 

* * *

“Stop here.” Church told Wash, snapping him out of his mindless trance on the road ahead of him. 

Wash slammed on the breaks causing Freckles to jolt in the back seat and wake Caboose up. 

“Not what I meant.” Church sneered. 

“Sorry.” Washington muttered. 

“Are we here?” Caboose asked happily from the back seat, sticking his face up to the window to get a better look at the forest outside. 

Church nodded. “As close as we're gonna get. You ready to see our old base, Buddy?”

Caboose smiled, but his smile quickly faltered. “No.” He said quietly. 

Church huffed. “Well, too bad because I don’t trust you enough to stay in the car.”

* * *

Tucker led him and Junior down the hall, keeping a hand on the side of the wall to feel for a door. He could tell the hallway walls wore wallpaper on them, the floor was most likely cushioned with carpet, and he could also feel a rail on the side of the wall. He assumed it was because they were in a modern hallway. His guess was that the rooms down the hallway were most likely bedrooms. 

It gave him a hotel-like vibe.   
  


He did eventually find a door. Once he did, he quickly felt up the wood, feeling a small window and moving lower until he eventually felt a handle. He jiggled the handle and opened it wide. 

Junior paused, hearing the sound as Tucker quickly stepped into the room and felt up the side of the wall for a lightswitch. When he found one, he flipped it and watched as the lights flickered momentarily before staying on. 

“In here.” Tucker said quickly.

Junior looked into the room and frowned. 

It looked like a regular bedroom. There were chairs, a bed, a broken TV, and curtains covering the windows. 

But more importantly; they were no doors. The room was essentially a dead end. 

“Dad we can’t stay in here,” Junior said matter-of-factly, following his dad into the room as he kneeled by the TV and pulled out his knife. “We’ll be trapped.” 

Tucker took the knife and cut the cord connecting the TV to the wall. “I know,” He stated, grabbing a newspaper off a nearby dresser. “Sit on the bed.” He instructed. 

Junior automatically did as his dad told, uneasily looking towards the door as his dad moved towards it; cord and newspaper in hand. “Dad, what are you doing?”

Tucker left the room and shut the door, causing Junior to jump up from the bed and move towards the closed door. He attempted to open it, but stopped once he saw his Dad tie the TV cord around the railing on the wall and through the door handle.

“Dad, open the door.” Junior demanded, knocking on the glass. 

Tucker looked up at him and reached behind him into his backpack, grabbing a water bottle. He dribbled the water onto the newspaper and didn’t stop until he had wetted it completely. Only being able to see what he was doing by the little light shining through the door window. 

**  
  
**

“Dad? Seriously, what are you doing?” Junior’s muffled voice spoke as he shook the door handle and looked up into the glass door window at his dad. 

Tucker bit his lip and forced a smile, looking up at his son. “I’ll be back, once it’s safe.” He said, raising the newspaper in his hand. 

“Wait. Dad, don’t!” 

Tucker smiled. “I love you.” He said quickly, glancing back worriedly before placing the wet newspaper over the glass of the door window as if to block any view of Junior to any wandering zombies. “Stay quiet.” He said loud enough for Junior to hear as he shook the tie he had on the door handle one more time to ensure it was secure. 

Junior shook the handle and banged on the door repeatedly. “Dad, don’t leave me here!” He shouted. 

After a few seconds, the teenager quieted down and pressed his ear to the door. When he didn’t hear any more movement outside he sat back down on the bed with a huff. 

“Fuck.” 

* * *

“Yea, there is definitely no safe way in. There everywhere.” Church concluded, looking at the base through the small, carry-on binoculars he had in his bag.

“Now what?” Caboose asked worriedly as Church tucked the binoculars back into his bag and slid off the top of the car. 

Washington thought for a moment. “Then what we do is simple,” He stated. “We gotta find a way to lead them away.” 

“How?” Church asked. “We’re in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing but road and forest for miles.” 

Washington looked towards the truck. “You got that radio to call somebody.” Wash asked, before turning to look towards Church. “What else can you get it to do?” 

“Anything.” Church said confidently. “What do you need done?” 

“We need it to blast the loudest, high-pitched sound it can.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH Its over!!! I'm happy and sad at the same time. 
> 
> If you're reading this, thank you for sticking by to the finale. 
> 
> Btw, I will be posting a few other mini stories in this universe so stay tuned ; )

“Alright, she’s all set.” Church announced with pride. 

Washington looked up at him, grabbing his bag and another gun from the truck. “Got it. You ready Caboose?” He asked, turning to look at the larger male. 

Caboose bit his lip nervously. “What if Church gets hurt?” He asked. 

Church rolled his eyes, hoping into the front seat. “I’ll be fine. You guys enter through the back entrance and I’ll do what I gotta do and meet up with you later.” He stated, patting the passenger seat. “Come here, dog.” He called, watching as Caboose helped Freckles up into the passenger seat. 

Caboose petted Freckles down his back and leaned down to kiss him on the head. “Keep Church safe, Freckles.” He said quietly before looking up at Church. 

“Be safe, buddy.” Church told him. 

“Please do not say goodbye.” Caboose said quickly. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Church told him. “Now shut the fucking door.” 

Caboose nodded and stepped back, shutting the door. 

“It’ll be ok,” Washington told Caboose as Church drove away. “Church is too smart to be taken down so easily.” 

Caboose nodded, tearful eyes as he watched the car grow smaller and smaller in the distance. 

* * *

“Think, think, think, think,” Tucker mumbled to himself as he sped down the dark hallway; one hand feeling the side of the wall and the other clutching his knife. “Come on.” 

There had to be a way out, a weapon room, a rooftop. Fuck something. Anything. 

He really hoped that he hadn’t led himself to a dead end. 

His mind raced over the previous events of the day. 

What would have happened if they had just stayed in their neighborhood? 

He tried to reason with himself that it would have still been hell. Him and Junior couldn’t surely spend the rest of their lives in that house forever. That wasn’t a life. 

He told himself he was in the right for trying to get Junior to a place where there would be people and an actual reason for living. 

He told himself Wash was right for leaving them because if he had stayed, he’d be in the same position as Tucker. 

He tried to tell himself they’d get out of this undamaged. 

But, right now, he wasn’t seeing any way out. 

Trailing his hand along the wall, he halted his movements as he heard growling in the dark hallway. 

“Aw, shit.” He mumbled. 

He held his knife in front of him and squirted his eyes, attempting to adjust to the dark. When his vision wasn’t able to see a zombie in front of him, he put his foot cautiously behind him to keep balance and took a deep breath. “Come get me, Fucker!” He yelled into the dark hall.

The growling stopped altogether and he tightened his grip on the knife, bracing himself. The groaning only quieted down for a second until manic screeching was heard down the hall and to the left. 

Tucker took his hand off the side wall and out in front of him, to feel for the incoming Z. 

He followed the sounds of the screeching as he heard it grow louder and louder, until he could tell it was right in front of him. 

He let it grab at him a little so he could identify where it was and grabbed it’s wrists, quickly stabbing wildly in the air until he hit something. 

The first stab missed and the second got it in the shoulder. 

He dodged it’s wailing arm and readjusted his aim, swinging again and injecting the knife into the creature’s skull. 

Tucker let it fall limp to the ground with a sigh as he stumbled forward, attempting to find the wall again. 

He sighed, hearing growling down the hall before he let his hand continue trailing up the wall until he felt two long, cylinder handles. He pushed them and to his gratitude, they opened up a large, assembly-like door. 

Tucker stepped into the room and light flickered momentarily before a few lights came on. 

He looked around him at the large room he was in. 

There were only a few lights lit up, so shadows scattered the walls. There was a stage by the back, accompanied by more doors that Tucker hoped led to an exit. There was also a few large roll-out tables lined up in the empty space. 

Hearing loud groans down the hall, he slammed the double doors shut and ran over to one of the tables, pushing it towards the door, using it as a semi-barricade. 

He continued pushing the folded up tables towards the door until he heard thumping against it. He backed away and heard more and more bloody fists pound against the door. 

Tucker glanced at his barricade work and noticed how the door creaked open slightly to reveal gray fingers seeping through. 

For a second he believed it would hold. 

But he underestimated how many zombies there actually were. 

Because the more and more that ran up to the door, trying to push through; the more and more the door began inching open. 

Tucker winced and ran up to the table trying to find a way to keep the wheels from rolling away as the door opened. 

There had to have been a door-stop or something like it.

The door shook open more and Tucker quickly pushed himself against the table, trying his damned hardest to push it closed. 

He turned around and faced the door, pushing and leaning all his body weight onto the tables with his arms out in front of him and his foot placed steadily behind him for more support. 

“Come on, fucker. Close.” He hissed under his breath. 

This was it he concluded.

This was how he died. 

He didn’t believe it. 

When he was younger, Church always told him he’d die of HIV or AIDs or of some other sexually transmitted disease. 

But not this. Not like this. 

He couldn’t die like this. He still needed to save Junior and make amends with Wash and fuck-, he just couldn’t. 

Tucker’s grip slipped slightly as the door cracked further open. He felt his foot lose its steadiness and push back. 

You know, it really is true what they say. 

Before you die, your life does seem to flash before your eyes. 

He remembered the moment the nurse handed him Junior 14 years ago. He remembered the smell of bleach in the room and the texture of the blanket he was wrapped in and he remembered the fear. 

The fear of being fourteen, with a crying newborn, no income, no home, and no mom to help him. 

The fear screaming  _ “What the fuck am I going to do with this thing?” _

_ “Love him.” The nurse said with a smile. “And if you love him, you’ll never let him go. You’ll never want to.” _

And then he remembered Wash. 

Watched him drive away all over again. 

And he remembered those words. 

_ “-If you love him, you’ll never let him go.” _

He broke the one rule that had convinced him to keep Junior fourteen years ago. 

Tucker saw the bloody eyes of Zs as the door slowly pushed open. His weak grip faltered as the door pushed the tables back. 

“Fuck,” He muttered defeated, unsure if he was even saying anything at all. “This is gonna hurt.” 

One last zombie violently ramming its body against the door was what did it. 

Tucker’s foot slipped and the tables began to roll back. He no longer tried to keep the doors secure as he was pushed down to the dirty, cold floor. He felt the tables roll out and awaited the hoard of Zs that were ready to tear him apart. 

Until-

Until the tables stopped moving. 

Stopped moving back and started moving forward. 

Tucker looked up and froze as he saw David Washington, in the flesh, pushing against the table and firing bullets through the cracks of the door. 

“Wash!?” Tucker yelled, unsure if he was hallucinating or not. “What the fuck are you doing? You shouldn’t be here!” He screamed, wanting to be heard over the increasingly loud screeches from the zs.

Wash only glanced towards him and extended his only free hand for him. Tucker took it and picked himself up off the floor, noticing another person accompanying him. 

“Caboose!?”

Caboose glanced around Washington as he pressed his bulldozer of a body against the zombie-pressured door. “I’m here too!” He said with a bright smile. 

Tucker raised a brow

The sight of Caboose was astounding to him as he hadn’t seen him in years.

Caboose looked over at Tucker with a stressed smile. “I am scared.” He said quietly. 

“I’ll explain later!” Washington yelled with a sheepish smile as he attempted to put all of his strength into keeping the door closed while simultaneously firing bullets into the only open crack available. 

With a slight nod, Tucker shook it off, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. He began pushing against the tables keeping the doors closed, attempting to contain the Zs trying to bust it down.

Wash continued firing bullets through the crack, causing a build up of dead Zs in front of the door. “Where’s Junior?!” He asked hurriedly, not able to look at Tucker due to him being more than occupied. “He’s not-”

“No, he’s not!” Tucker interrupted, voice strained. “I left him in a room down the hall where he’ll be safe.” 

Wash didn’t respond and Tucker frowned, a constant cycle of pushing forward and being pushed back as his arms strained against the door and the Zs only got stronger. 

It was clear to him that, despite their efforts, there was no way they could make it out of this alive. 

And there were still so many things he wanted to say. 

Tucker took a deep breath. “Wash, before we-” He tried, his muscles aching under the weight of the table and his feet slipping slightly from the pool of blood that began resonating from the zombies David had shot down. 

“Don’t!” Washington managed, between rushed breaths. He attempted to fire his gun again and upon hearing the sound of an empty clip, tossed it to the side and put all his effort into keeping the door closed. “We’re gonna be ok.” 

The confused “What?!” lingered in the air until the zombies began quieting down. 

And for a moment it was nearly silent. 

Silent, except for a high pitched ringing that was heard off to the distance. 

A high pitched ringing that only got louder. 

Several zombies reacted to the sound and diverted their attention, whipping their heads around. A slight weight was beginning to be lifted off the door as zombies clumsily bolted down the hall. 

“They are leaving!” Caboose cheered, still pushing against the door. 

And for about 5 minutes, there was constant pushback from the zombies that lingered until they abandoned the door for the sound and it was easily held down. 

“You said Junior was back down that hall?” Wash questioned, taking the new-found time to let his backpack drop to the ground as he began digging through it. 

Tucker nodded, feet held steadily on the ground as scratching was still heard against the door that him and Caboose were keeping closed. 

Wash pulled out a larger gun and passed it up to Tucker, who was happy to receive a new weapon that wasn’t his rusty combat knife. 

Wash pulled out another gun and loaded it, closing his bag and tightening it over his shoulders. “Then let’s go get him.” 

Tucker nodded, cocking the gun handed to him. 

“Caboose, you stay here.” Washington told the larger male as he readed himself to exit out the door. He turned to Tucker and bit his lip. “You ready?” 

Tucker nodded, still amazed at the unreality of the situation. “Always.” He said with a smug grin and a wink. 

“Ok,” Washington said before sighing and turning to Caboose. “Open the door.” 

* * *

“That dick,” Junior muttered, staring up at the ceiling of the monotone room. “Of course, the one thing he would do before getting himself killed would be to ensure I was safe.” 

Junior sat up on the bed. “Self-sacrificing asshole.” He snipped before glancing towards the back of the room at a dead body that laid limp against the room’s dresser. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.” He hissed. “You would be pissed too.” 

“He doesn’t think I can handle anything.” Junior muttered. 

“If he dies, then what's the point of me living?” He asked the dead body.

His dad was the only reason they made it that far in the apocalypse. So what was the point of living if he was just going to wander the apocalypse alone, or hell. Spend the rest of his life, starving to death, in some room. 

The corpse didn’t respond, as expected, and Junior took another look at it. 

He sat up off the bed and moved over to it. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything that could get me out of this room?” He asked, kneeling in front of it. 

Junior unzipped the dead creature’s jacket and momentarily searched through its coat before looking up at its face and sighing. “You’re useless.” He told it.

The body twitched slightly before opening its bloodshot eyes. 

Junior yelped and scooted away as fast as possible as the zombie followed his movements with its eyes. “Holy shit!” 

The Z cocked its head and an unsettling crack was heard from its neck, probably sore from lack of movement as it began picking itself up off the ground. 

Junior scurried off the ground and jumped onto the bed and over it as he ran over to the door. The zombie slowly picked itself up off the carpeted floor and twitched madly, little cracking noises heard from its unmoved limbs.

Junior jiggled the handle and pounded against the door. “Son of a bitch!” He hissed. “Open you fucking thing.”

The Z watched Junior for a second before screeching madly and throwing itself into his direction. The teen bolted out of the way and towards the back of the room, grabbing a broken lamp off the bed side table and hopping onto the bed for higher ground. “I’ll teach you to play dead you jumpy motherfucker.” He snapped, raising the lamp up over his shoulder. 

The zombie growled loudly and blood dribbled out of its mouth and onto the floor as the door behind him swung open and Tucker appeared, jumping back at sight of the zombie before firing his gun twice. 

The Z coughed blood and let its eyes fall shut as it fell limp. 

Junior sighed, lowering the lamp. “I had it handled.” He stated confidently.

Tucker smiled. “Sure you did.” He said cockily. 

Junior rolled his eyes, tossing the lamp aside and climbing down from the bed. “Yea, whatever asshole. Nice to see you decided to come back after all.” 

“Don’t take it personally.” Tucker told him with a slight shrug. 

Junior smiled. Because, well. He was glad his dad was back and ok.

“Lets go.” Someone said outside the room causing Junior to frown at the recognizable voice. 

“What the hell is he doing here?” He questioned, following his dad out of the room. 

Wash looked over at him sheepishly as Tucker scoffed. “He’s the reason I’m alive.” He stated. “And he’s right, we need to get back to Caboose.” He told him, as Wash began leading them back down the hall. 

“Caboose?” Junior asked. “Your friend in Texas?” 

“That's the one.” Tucker said with a smile. 

“And we have to hurry.” Washington told them, ushering them to move quicker. “Before he sets something on fire.” 

* * *

If he had realized how big a headache all the noise would give him before he decided to steer Wash’s damn truck all the way to the city, he might have bargained for a different job.

For fuck’s sake, the barking and howling next to him was barely even hearable. 

“Yea, I know.” Church sympathized, glancing over at Freckles and then quickly back at the road. “It’s obnoxious.”

Church chuckled, extending a hand towards Freckles to scratch softly behind his ears. “Still rather be here than back at the base.” He defended. 

Freckles growled and shot up in the passenger seat, turning his head around and barking towards the snarling behind them. 

Church glanced in the rearview mirror and sped the car up slightly, noticing how the zombies were getting closer. 

If they got close enough to jump on the back, he’d be screwed. 

But he had to stay just close enough to keep their attention. 

Fun fact about zombies; they had really fucking short attention spans.

Which was beneficial at times where a distraction could save your life. 

For example, when the apocalypse started for him, some old asshole with a shotgun and a “boner for murder” as he called it, saved his life by acting like a buffoon a few feet away from him. 

He was being targeted by a Z and briskly ducked behind a counter when the old man busted into the building he was in, hollering and simultaneously taking the zombie’s attention off of him and on to the crazy guy. 

He only felt a little bad for getting the fuck out of there and not coming back to help for a second until he realized, it’s the fucking apocalypse. Fend for yourself. 

And to this day, he defended that decision. 

Because if he wasn’t a selfish asshole, he would have never met Allison.

* * *

“It has been too long.” Caboose said quietly, biting his nails anxiously as he stared at the fire in front of him. 

Washington tossed another log into the campfire and let out an uninterested hum as he glanced back towards the makeshift tent Tucker had made out of clothing line clips and a blanket for Junior for the millionth time. 

They had made it out without so much of a scratch, thank god. But the second they made it out, Wash had to attend to Caboose and Tucker had immediately broken off from them both to make sure Junior was ok and in a safe, secluded area. 

Which was, expected. 

Junior seemed pretty peeved at his dad and Tucker’s relationship with him was probably the one he should amend to first.

But it still gave Wash anxiety, not having spoken to Tucker or not knowing what thoughts he had. 

Was he still mad at Wash? 

The tension in the air was unbearable and neither one of them had had a free second since everything went down to talk it out. 

“Do you think he got lost on his way back?” Caboose asked. 

Washington nodded, glancing away from the tent. “Maybe.” He told him. 

Caboose let out a tiny, “Oh.” 

Which made Wash feel slightly bad, but what else could he say?

He had no idea when Church would be back. 

It could be hours, days, weeks, or maybe he would never co-

The sound of a truck engine and the blaring headlights coming into view, caused him both to squint and marvel at the car that pulled up to their small, makeshift camp.

Wash stood up slowly, bringing a hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes from the light as Caboose shot up with a smile.

“Church!”

The front car door swung open and Church himself stepped out, his arms raised with a cocky smile on his face. “Miss me assholes?” He said with a grin. 

Caboose looked on the verge of tears as he happily bolted towards Church and hugged him tightly, lifting him up off the ground. 

Church let out a pained groan as he struggled to breathe. “Caboose,” He strained. “Let. me. Go.” 

Caboose dropped him suddenly and Wash chuckled. 

“Sorry.” Caboose said quietly, obviously still excited. 

Church gave Wash the stink eye as he dusted off his shirt. “You won’t be laughing when it's you.” He sneered. 

Wash shrugged slightly. “I’m sure Caboose will be happy to let you cash out all my hugs.” 

“Fucker.” Church repled snarkily before glancing around the base. “Speaking of fuckers,” He started. “Where’s Tucker?” 

“Right here.” Tucker announced, having stepped out of the blue, makeshift tent with a smile. “Now shut the fuck up, Junior’s sleeping.” 

Church snickered as Tucker stepped closer. “What is he, 4?” He questioned sarcastically.

“Good to see you, asshole.” Tucker told him with a smile. 

“You too, dickhead.” 

“Uh, Church?” Caboose questioned next to him. “Where is Freckles?” 

Church looked over at him and waved Caboose over as he began walking to the back of the truck, leaving Wash and Tucker alone. 

Wash lingered in his spot for a second awkwardly. He was unsure what to do. He wanted to talk to Tucker, but didn’t want to get in the way of his happy reunion or whatever. So, deciding to give him space, he made a move to walk away, wanting to get more firewood for the fire.

However, Tucker looked over at him and stepped forward. “Wait, Wash.” He said quickly, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

Wash stopped and turned around to look at Tucker, leaving only about a foot or two of space between them. 

Tucker stared at him, still holding his hand when Wash sighed and began speaking. “Tucker, I-”

“Nuh uh,” Tucker interrupted. “Me first.”

Wash instantly shut his mouth and gave his full attention to Tucker who subtly averted his gaze towards the ground. “Wash, back then, I left you and I shouldn’t have.” Tucker brought his attention back onto Wash. “It was wrong and I’m an asshole.” 

Wash smiled at him and laughed. “Well, I always knew  _ that. _ ” He teased. 

Tucker scoffed, hiding his grin. “Don’t be a jerk, I’m not done.” He said before continuing “And I really regret what I did. I guess I just thought I'd be better off alone. But, the truth is, I’m not and this past day, I missed you. Really missed you. And I realized I don’t want to go through the apocalypse regretting leaving you.” Tucker paused and looked back down at the ground and shifted his feet. “And Im, sorry.” He mumbled. 

“Im sorry, what?” Wash questioned. “I couldn’t hear you.” 

“You heard me asshole,” Tucker snipped with no real venom in his voice as he looked up at him. “Take it or leave it.” 

Wash smiled. “I forgive you.” He told him. “And, I’m sorry too. When I left earlier, I let my anger get the better of me and I shouldn’t have.” 

Tucker nodded. “Yea, but I kind of deserved that. And you did save us like twenty minutes ago, so thank you.” He said, smiling up at him.

Wash couldn’t help but smile back at him and for a moment, everything seemed perfect. 

“Hey, lovebirds!” Church called from the truck, catching both Tucker’s and Wash’s attention. “We need to start packing up so we can leave tomorrow. This place sucks ass.” 

Wash nodded and turned back towards Tucker, taking his other hand into his own. “What do you say?” He asked quietly, causing Tucker to look up at him. “You wanna stick together, explore the apocalypse with me.” 

Tucker smiled; a real genuine smile that made Wash light up inside to see. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He said, leaning forward and pushing up on his tippy-toes to kiss Wash. 

Washington happily kissed back when something struck him. 

He finally had a purpose. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be out soon <3


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